


Tassle

by blankdblank



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Depression, Emotionally Repressed, Homelessness, Insecurity, Returning Home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-07-08 19:14:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15936587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blankdblank/pseuds/blankdblank
Summary: On the night before Durin's Day a tradition known fondly as Burglar's Day is your only chance, at least in your mind, to spare the Throne of Erebor to an oncoming coup. Nearly a century later and the culprit behind the tradition is still unnamed, though there is a certain fallen Prince hoping with every inch of him the task belonged to you. In this tale of loss, loss, loss and returning home the future King discovers some very big blunders of his own while aiming to learn the identity of his nameless Burglar.





	1. Chapter 1

_ He will be mine, and through him they’ll all kneel. _  The cackles were clearly heard echoing through the small servant’s tunnels around you while the bearded Dams around the three Sisters visiting from an Eastern Dwarf Kingdom all visiting for the upcoming festivities all stole agreeing glances at one another to aid their superiors on their task. Furrowing your brows you kept on task, delivering your message to the King as the images of their smug expressions flashed in your mind deepening your scowl.  _Beardless halfblood._ Their private nick name for you when you weren’t in the presence of the King. You the half Hobbit Dam sent to live with your Grandparents, the King and Queen’s personal jewelers, who through them you had gained a respectable title of your own.

Out of all the children of Nobles in Erebor you had been chosen to pass on messages between the King and whomever he wished between your lessons on the history of your Grandparent’s kin and their trade in forging. To handle the King’s jewels was the highest right granted, and to be his messenger was a task merely inches behind that, entrusted to you at a single act in your infancy.

..

Through the echo of shouts and clattering of papers, silver plates and goblets being cast around the meeting room, in the angered Thror’s search for his seal, one that his supposed top trusted advisor had suggested the Men from Dale had stolen it, your shrill squeal sounded drawing the men to freeze mid throw. Turning mid circle Thror spotted the source of the squeal, the small toddler seated beside the advisor tugging on a pouch formerly tucked inside his boot at the end of one of its ties.

Looking down the advisor tried to tug his boot away only snapping the twine gaining another giggle from you as your Grandmother inched closer inside bowing lowly to the King whispering your name followed by, “I am sorry Your Majesty. I set her down for a moment.” A smile grew on their faces at the startlingly small girl before them rose to her feet and tottered over to the now kneeling King who’s guards held back the advisor in his attempt to snatch it away from her. In his extended palm the pouch was settled before you wobbled causing him to curl you in his elbow raising you when he stood again. Through a glare he eyed his stammering advisor pleading with him that he’d both never seen it before and if he had it would be of little importance.

Lowering his gaze the golden raven statue with Thror’s symbol at its base was revealed upon its opening while you giggled resting your head against his shoulder tapping your fingers against the golden zigzags clasped around his beard. A creeping smile spread across his face while the advisor was drug away and your Grandmother had approached upon request to claim you after granting the small purple eyed toddler another smiling glance.

..

Slipping through a hidden doorway you approached the Throne room glancing at the guards who opened the doors allowing you inside for your same quiet path to the King’s right side. His only warning was the clink of the guard’s chains around his neck shifting through the doors closing once again before the message was set on the arm of his throne before your two backwards steps behind the Crown Prince’s two Sons just barely a decade older than you both stealing sideways glances at the constantly silent young woman that had gained the King’s unfaltering trust.

Quietly you passed through the kingdom ignoring all stares and comments on how different you truly seemed to be at the Hobbit blood your late Father had carried. But tonight as you planned to foil yet another attempt against the King and his heirs you struggled against those same differences assuring you could never be claimed by the very same object of your affection you were aiming to save. Tonight of all nights you had planned to do the one thing going against all the King entrusted you to uphold, you were going to steal from the Royal family.

Durin’s Day Eve, after you went to your bed as your Grandparent’s headed for theirs you changed not into your sleeping clothes but back from your gown for your lessons into your messenger garb, pants, a long shirt and a thick outer vest bearing your pins bearing the King’s seal marking your status. Glancing through the hallway of your apartment you eyed the lights from under your Grandparent’s doorway being doused signaling you to slip into the hallway and out into the Royal Wing. Silently you walked to the large statue of a bear and slipped behind it, feeling out the hidden loop marking where to push to open the small door you eased through and closed again.

Fifty steps later you stopped at another hidden door pressing your ear to it and smirked at the silence on the other side of it. Softly you pushed the door open, closing it behind you to slip out into the darkened hallway in the Crown Prince’s apartment just beside the servant’s pantry holding the cleaning supplies. At the low grumble of Princess Dis in her struggle in succumbing to sleep before her fourth story you eased down the hall to the echoing sighs and pages turning of her Father looking over the final draft of his speech he was to give the following day and slipped into his eldest Son’s room.

…

Barely at 30 you joined the line of Dwarves following the young Prince, catching his gaze back at you on your own at your Grandparent’s fall in aiding the other Nobles’ Children to safety. Once again you sat wordlessly staring off into the distance claiming another place on the watch for yet another night with no more than a single pouch strapped around your waist holding your greatest treasures over a hidden pouch of gold you’d saved up. All around you the Orphans your Grandparents sent into your path curled up for bed under your thick wool layered gown you’d sewn for the Durin’s Day celebration, one that drew tears from all the elders around you at your shredding for blankets for each Child, knowing how long you must have slaved over the occasion. Without the thick gown your pack, once used to house it was now passed onto Princess Dis to carry the few supplies her kin had gathered for her newborn Son Fili.

All through to the Shire your people staggered until that last night when you scouted ahead to meet with your distant kin. With the sunrise you returned with a wagon packed with food and supplies for the discarded Dwarves all bearing deeply humbled expressions at the kindness the Halflings had offered. By noon you had entered the peaceful lands where an elderly couple had offered to house the Children in your care as long as you sent money for them as you made your ways to the abandoned Blue Mountain keep after Thorin with the others.

…

Sixty years had passed and under the bright moonlight those same glistening Durin Blue eyes once again trailing over the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen or know inside and out. Under the nearly always knotted mess of curls bearing beads with marks now near worn illegible by wear those same strikingly purple eyes seemingly able to see the truth to all along with the truest path sat above a once pampered now starved and tightened muscular form worn through nearly by all it bore the weight of. Selflessly you gave, and gave, and gave, never asking in return. All around you bore smiles at their prospering fortunes while the once near blinding smile he’d drawn out by accident just once remained seemingly lost in your toiling days.

.

A call was sent out and the one creature he never doubted to answer gave a single knock on a large green door. A bit late, far later than the future King’s Cousin Dwalin, who fully expected to find your boot prints to follow to the door, quietly the Dwarves sat around the table with an air of uncertainty between glances at the stool they had set aside for you. That knock sending a wave of relieved exhales through them before the King himself went to answer the door as their host stood peering in the doorway at the woman bowing her head to Thorin who stepped aside welcoming her in.

Her identity only revealed to him at their eyes meeting through her head bowing as he exhaled himself at the sight of his Mother’s distant Cousin, “Jaqiearae Pear-Baggins” crossing the floor with a growing smile to offer you his hand, “Bilbo.” His smile causing a glance between the King and his new Burglar while he ushered you inside towards the last helping of food as he spoke in hushed Hobbitish, “Perhaps you can explain all this to me…”

..

Ripping another piece of your bread off to eat your eyes landed on Bilbo at his search in your bag for the extra tobacco you’d bartered for along with the extra supplies for Bilbo you knew he would forget his head tilted as he eyed the small fur coated pouch stuffed tightly at his inspecting squeeze. The item in question causing a tensing through the Dwarves around you nearly ready to snatch it from him and return it to you, your lone piece of home, a symbol of the hope they imagined you bore at your chance to take your place in the age old courting ritual. Turning your head at their reaction your weak smile was sent to your relative as he tilted the bag for your viewing, “I like your pouch. Did you make it?”

You shook your head, “My Grandmother did.”

He nodded stealing another glance at it, “Are these sold in Dwarven Markets often?”

A scoff from the Dwarves gained a blank glance from you at Thorin who whacked the knee of one of his Nephews subtly, your eyes landed on Bilbo again with a soft smile stirring a fluttering heartbeat in the King hoping to witness another of your beaming grins, “It’s my Burglar’s pouch.” Bilbo’s brows rose as you giggled weakly after his glance down at it again before meeting your eye again. “The night before Durin’s Day is called Burglar’s Day. It’s a courting ritual. Each Dwarf as they reach adolescence are gifted one of these from their elders, the male’s bare tassles on the outside. After nightfall each female wishing to gain her intended’s courtship publicly is tasked with sneaking into their homes to clam the tassle on their pouch.”

Bilbo wet his lips, “So, you just leave your doors unlocked?”

The Dwarves watched your smile creep wider, “No. Quite the contrary. You have to manage the task without detection or your union is cursed.”

Balin gently claimed the pouch from Bilbo’s hands, “As is the person who peeks inside a Dam’s pouch before requesting permission on Durin’s Day.”

Bilbo met your eye as Balin tucked your pouch back into your bag to ask, “What happens with the tassles?”

“The males who were stolen from gather before the King and are granted three guesses to name the Dam responsible. If they succeed they earn a kiss and their courtship is publicly recorded.”

Bilbo, “And if they don’t?”

“Then the male forges another tassle and waits for another chance the following year to see if the Dam, or another is willing to try again.”

Bofur, “Most don’t, if you’ve guessed wrong that is.”

Kili snorted as Fili nudged his Uncle’s knee saying, “Except for Uncle here.”

Bilbo’s brow rose again as Thorin sighed through Balin’s explanation, “If his tassle goes missing again this year it’d be the century mark since his first was snatched.”

Bilbo glanced at Thorin, “A century? How have you gone a century without guessing who it was?”

Rolling his eyes Thorin shifted to turn slightly towards his left to lean against the large rock behind him to close his eyes after catching your smile dimming through your drawing out the tobacco for Bilbo then went to your terribly worn attempt at a bedroll to try and get some sleep. Balin gently nudged his side saying softly, “He’s asked every Dam that’s traveled for Durin’s Day celebrations each year.”

Bilbo, “And the ones that didn’t travel?”

Balin’s cheeks rose in a glance at you after catching Thorin’s peek at you before closing his eyes again, in a whisper Balin added, “He’s been working through asking all our Lasses. Just a few unbound left to ask still.”

Bilbo, “How does he know, who he’s asked and who he hasn’t?”

Balin chuckled again reaching into his own pouch to draw out a small worn booklet he raised and passed over, “I’ve been keeping track.”

Bilbo’s brows furrowed at the Dwarven runes until he mumbled, “Did Jaqi skip the tradition?”

The question drawing Thorin’s eyes open to scan over your now sleeping figure curled against your knotted blanket as a pillow then back to Balin giving him a smile as he chuckled then said, “Present each year since her birth.”

Bilbo wet his lips, “Well, she showed me how to write her name and she’s not mentioned in this.”

Thorin’s brows furrowed nearly growling, “You must be mistaken. Hobbitish runes are far different than ours.”

Bilbo met his gaze passing the book to Kili between them, “I know my Mother’s Cousin’s name. Dwarvish and Hobbitish. Taught me how to write it herself so we could write to one another in her place in the Blue Mountains.”

Leaning forward Thorin peered over his Nephew’s shoulder and under furrowed brows the realization dawned on him his years of dreaming of calling your name before his Grandfather’s seat were just that, dreams claiming to be memories stabbed at him deeply. One century, all those years choosing and choosing wrong while the Dams in his family prayed his faithful One would be patient for always just one year longer hoping he would finally choose right. “I believed I had.”

Bilbo accepted the booklet again to pass back and moved to your side at the curious expression on the King’s face as he peered off into the distance mentally retracing all those years.

…

“This way Prince Thorin.” The blonde Elf Prince froze at the stern “No” that followed.

With parted lips he watched as Thorin’s back came into view at his turn to face you as he whispered in deep rumbles of Khuzdul,  **“Take my place.”**

** “I’m-.” **

His eyes met yours as he continued ignoring the shocked glances from his Nephews,  **“We were homeless and wandering, starving and you convinced the Hobbits to grant us safe passage and supplies as well as care for our orphans. I believed it hopeless, and you saw a chance. I trust you. Take my place.”**  Nodding your head you stepped forward to follow after the Elf Prince eyeing you curiously at his side.

At the top of the highly positioned throne the Elf King turned his head at the lack of Dwarven boots landing on the ground, finding a familiar softly stepping Hobbitess once flitting to the fallen Dwarf King’s side then off again as a child. “Forgive me we were never properly introduced, though I remember you perfectly young Maiden.”

Your head bowed before you stated, “My name is Jaqiearae Pear-Baggins, Your Majesty.”

An easy smile slid onto his face at the voice so similar to what he imagined coming from the formerly silent flitting creature, “I am glad to make your acquaintance finally, Miss Pear-Baggins.” After a glance at his Son he added, “The Prince has granted you his place in our meeting I see.” His smile inched wider, “A very admirable decision.”

“The King believes me able to form a peaceful solution to our capture.”

Climbing down the stairs after rising to his feet he said, “You still hold that same hint of fear in your eyes.” Your eyes rose to meet his as he chuckled lowly, “Not of me. Clearly not of me. No, of yourself. Even in infancy you bore the same unflinching honesty your Mother and Grandmother did. How are your Grandparents? I hope they are well, we had such fond conversations over the years.”

Turning back to face you he watched a lone tear trail sink lower on your cheek through your flat response, “They fell when we fled Erebor.”

With parted lips he eyed your endless pool of unspoken pain from the long decades of waiting, “Why have you returned?”

“My King called for aid.”

“Your King-.” His near whisper broke as his own tear slid down his cheek as his fond memories with your kin flooded back all at once, unsure of what reason you had at all to follow Thorin possibly to your death.

“I serve My King just as you have served yours.” Wordlessly his lips parted then closed again before his small circle around you eyeing you for any injuries and finding several scrapes, bruises and tattered sutures made from old clothes on your arms and legs.

Stopping before you he inhaled slowly then said, “In return for aiding the Dwarves I wish to have my kin’s jewels returned to me.”

“Agreed.”

Missing your prompt agreement he continued his circling of you trying to see which of your wounds was the worst, “You were at the end, you saw-,” His body turned to stand in front of you again meeting your gaze, “Agreed?”

You nodded, “I will need it in writing though.” With a nod of his own he motioned his hand to the side leading you to the attached meeting room halfway exposed to the moonlit gardens you longingly eyed as he wrote out the simple terms.

Between stolen glances at you he real his words aloud, “I, King Thranduil Oropherion, do solemnly swear to grant safe passage, along with granting any necessary weapons or supplies at my disposal to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield in aid of their reclamation of Erebor. In return for their release-, how do you spell your name Miss Pear-Baggins?”

Turning your head he spotted the two other tear trails and the fresh trail of blood you had wiped away from your nose as you moved to his side spelling your name then watched as he continued. “In return for their release and safe delivery to Erebor, Jaqiearae Pear-Baggins, Swears to return the chest filled with the Jewels of Lasgalen along with the necklace formed of those gems sharing its chest to King Thranduil Oropherion upon the reclamation of Erebor.” Turning his head he caught your eye, “Any other stipulations you would wish to add?”

“None Thorin would uphold.” His brow rose, “It’s not important. Just my own ideas for a future friendship between your Kingdoms.”

Leaning back in his chair a ghost of a smile grew on his face, “Oh really, and what ideas would those be? Anything close to what it once was?”

“I doubt either of you were satisfied with your former terms.”

With a soft chuckle he straightened again reclaiming his pen to sign his name in Elvish script before sliding the page to you through offering the pen. Your hand curled around the pen you lowered to leave your elegantly scripted name in its Hobbitish Runes while he drew out another sheet of paper and reclaimed the pen after while his Son stepped forward to sign as witness to the agreement. On the quickly filled paper your suggested guidelines you had formed for the pairs of lands through the years in what you’d learned and overheard through your passing between messages drew impressed smiles from both Elves.

Both gladly led you to the apartment you were being gifted, to bathe and meet with the healer for your numerous wounds, beside the rooms the Dwarves had already been led to to pace impatiently waiting for word from you. After bathing and changing into the fresh set of clothes tucked in your pack gifted to you from Rivendell and joined the and joined the others waiting for you, all raising their heads with eager expressions looking you over as you secured the end of your long braid with a worn near snapping ribbon you’d worn since fleeing Erebor.

Claiming your seat on Thorin’s right his eyes locked with yours as he asked in Khuzdul,  **“It went well?”**

You nodded,  **“The King has agreed to aid us to Erebor.”**

Balin smiled as he clapped his hands,  **“Well done Miss Pear!”**

Flashing him a weak smile you caught Thorin’s eyes as he asked, **“You promised him the jewels?”**  As your lips moved to part he added,  **“No matter. I’m certain you can manage to enforce his upholding his promise.”**  His eyes moving to the food in the center of the table withholding his urge to shout curses at the Elves surrounding them he still bore harsh opinions of to say the least.

** “I got it in writing.” **  Causing his eyes to rise back over to you through a nod as his smile crept onto his face. Your heads all turned to the doorway that opened to the Elf King and his Son who walked in claiming their seats across from you. Then they delved into the supplies and travel plans for the following morning after you had all rested for the night before issuing an invitation to the entire Company to the Feast of Starlight in a few weeks time. Though as you ate you were unaware of the creeping possessive wave coursing through the Dwarf King at the endearing gazes the Elf King kept sending your way until you made your way to your rooms for the night.

All around you echoes of snores filled the halls as you laid there trying to withhold the same crushing fear of finally finding proof your Grandparents had fallen leaving you slipping in and out of consciousness until the Elleth sent to fetch you for breakfast found you already awake and ready for the travels ahead.

…

Through the darkness of the mountain you worked alone tearfully through the echoes of the sifting gold. With your lip quivering you gently splayed out all the clean sheets you could gather from the nearby servants pantries to lay out on the dust and ash coated floor in the small tomb in the lower levels once a store room for the food supplies for the dungeons. Carefully you cradled each body moving them onto the sheet to be carefully wrapped through your wavering hum of a traditional Dwarven burial rite between whispers of your final words and greetings to each Dwarf you recognized, sharing words on their surviving kin soon to return. Pressing your forehead to theirs for a quiet moment before the final folds over their faces.

Once carefully wrapped you marked their name in runes on the outside that you copied onto the blank journal you’d gathered from near the sheets used to copy down orders from the Nobles the servants were bound to. As you copied the thirtieth name you missed the silencing of the gold at the silent Bur Brother having passed on your location to the Company now leading them to where you were. Quietly the elders joined in on the task as Ori claimed the task of copying the runes while Bilbo and the Princes were tasked to find more sheets.

True their fears had crept up at the glossy expression filling their King’s eyes that quickly shattered at the echoes of your hum and muffled choking sobs between whispers in the distance. The sight of you driving any care for the treasure at all from him at the clear priority he had missed, his people that had so admirably tried to flee only to fall within their own Kingdom alone in the dark. Without a word you had once again revealed the true path he should have taken as soon as they had managed to end the Fire Drake that had stolen their homes away.

The King’s heart melting and breaking simultaneously at your dust, ash and tear stained face looking onto theirs with a wavering smile as your hum break at your whispering, “I’m certain you know this already, but you have a Granddaughter, Nornu,” your voice squeaked slightly then returned to its former trembling tone, “She’s got your hair, and Bao’s eyes. Incredible at checkers, tolerable at chess, but she does try so hard, no one can fault her for that. Truly a credit to you.” Your tongue dipped out to wet your lips as the men stood clutching each other’s shirts at your personal farewell to the couple you were wrapping up. “That Daughter of yours however, still could not bake an apple crumble to save her life.” Your hint at a smile mirroring onto the men’s faces, “Just dreadful, but I am certain she will one day figure out your recipe finally and stop torturing us with her personal takes on it.” After a pressing of your foreheads to theirs you issued a final farewell and closed the last folds over their faces then recorded their names.

One by one the names filled the pages until through parted lips Bilbo eyed the last one added and said, “They’re not here.”

Clearly referring to your Grandparents spurring a glimmer of hope in the men around you only to fall at your broken whisper of, “They wouldn’t be.” Around you brows rose at your rise and quiet path out of the doorway urging the men after you from the now properly organized and scrubbed resting place for their kin until final burials by kin could be arranged. Filing after you they eyed the darkened path you took surrounded by scorched walls and tattered and melted decorations, following the hall until you took a mainly overlooked staircase on the right while Balin extended the torch he’d brought from the tomb closer to you to light your path revealing more flames that ended coating the dead end hall with a faint glimmer of a familiar set of golden chains resting in a pile of ashes and tattered bits of embroidered cloth.

Biting your lip you could taste the blood you’d drawn withholding your wails aching to break free only to be pulled firmly into the arms of the King, in his lowest level shirt, same as those behind him, with his arms circling you tightly after he stepped around you spotting your trembling returning. In your new spot kneeling in the arms of the now kneeling King holding you through your muffled choked sobs as the others grouped around you through Bifur’s unfolding the sheets he had brought to respectfully scoop the piles onto them. Gently their chains were added while the few beads and a set of keys discovered were set aside and placed into your palm when you’d calmed enough to rise and hug the silent Dwarf for claiming the task gaining a timid hug in return.

Drawing back you wiped your cheeks again and caught the curious glances from the group wondering what they had been doing down here, looking at your palm you claimed the key on the ring forming a smaller identical key to the one around Thorin’s neck as you said, “There are a few more rights to their titles other than minding the King’s jewels.” Turning around you shifted a small diamond design appearing to be part of the larger scorched design on the wall revealing a keyhole, you eased the key into it and gave it a turn releasing a firm click before a looped handle popped out from the wall you pulled on revealing an uncarved portion on caverns their kin hadn’t shaped yet, “Follow this for nearly a mile and it lets out along a stream. Follow that North, and it leads to the unmarked peaks between here and Greenwood.”

Thorin’s lips parted as you turned with tears quietly streaming down your cheeks as you sealed the door again causing the handle and keyhole to hide once more. “Gwarn’s group, the servants and merchants that met us a few days along?”

Meeting his gaze again you added, “The ones who refused to meet my gaze for months after, yes.” Bilbo wet his lips then pointed at the door, “There’s no handle or lock on the other side. No way to seal it again.”

With a trembling lip of his own Gloin gave you a firm nod knowing his Brother’s family had been among them, to say, “Impeccable Dwarves- the pair of them,”

Through a weak smile from you your eyes met, “They led great lives. Quiet but great.”

.

Curling the wrapped sheet in your arms you went up to your former apartment, leaving them resting on your Grandmother’s favorite chair until you could form a proper urn to add them to your kin’s tomb in the halls of Kings, a right they had earned at their faithful service to the King in their highly regarded profession. Each of the others going to bathe  as well before the dinner you all would put together, all having a small celebration until you broke off to go to bed. Painfully each memory flooded back as you sat quietly weeping in the corner of the bath, the one room you felt ease at being in without the only kin you’d ever known in your early life. Unable to bear it anymore you slowly crept into your bedroom to collect a pack of clothes then made your way quietly out of the mountain using a rope to climb down from the overlook.

Once on the ground you tied the ropes end around a rock you threw back up onto the overlook and turned away headed straight for the mountains off in the distance. In silence your pain waned once again at the calming solitude you had needed to deal with the finality of your place alone in the world except for Bilbo, his Sister and future child. Day by day the mountains grew before you while a not so subtle Raven that was sent after you hopped from one small peak to another on the rock wall you were approaching. Through the early morning light you followed a small winding path leading you around the near thunderously loud footsteps of the patrolling guards all missing your passing them in their focus on searching for any enemies leaving them deaf to your silent footsteps.

At the large gate barely visible at certain angles your hand clenched and rose to give the hidden slot a firm knock stirring a round of confused glances between the guards inside. Timidly the slot was opened nearly causing the guard peeking through to jump back at the purple eyed leaf eared woman staring back at him, wetting his lips he called out, “Who goes there?”

“I bear a message for your King Dain from his Cousin Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain.” The grey eyes locked with yours widened as the two guards listening in grabbed hold of the door giving it a firm tug allowing you inside.

All around you curious Dwarves eyed you, most near the gates unsure of this strange creature in their midst until a round of stunned gasps and expecting smiles grew on familiar faces from Erebor grew in number and flocked around your path to the throne room bowing their heads to you respectfully. Holding your gaze forward your eyes soon fell on the fiery haired King in the middle of a meeting around his model map bearing table surrounded by his Council soon turned to face you at the guard approaching his side alerting him of your presence.

Just as his glowing blue eyes fell on your clearly exhausted and ready to collapse figure your eyes darted to the elderly Dam bursting in with her Daughter in law and Granddaughter after her. Respectfully your head bowed to them as you greeted the elder on her trot over to you through her teary gaze,  **“Queen Niro, Princess Diaa, Princess Dis.”**

The younger pair bobbed their heads in return as the former Queen stopped before you resting her hands on your shoulders through a teary smile as she replied,  **“I am so, you’re safe?”**

Your head nodded,  **“Yes Your Majesty. Your Grandson and his Company all made it safely to Erebor, though they are in need of reinforcements.”** Her lips parted,  **“Word of the bounty on King Thorin’s head still stands. Numbers are gathering.”**

Her head turned to Dain who had eyed you curiously through your conversation before meeting her eyes to say,  **“And reinforcements he shall get. I will send word to the other Kingdoms right away. We can leave at nightfall.”**  His hand rose to wave over his scribe while the Dams ushered you towards their shared apartment.

Queen Niro looped her arm with yours leading you to the hall saying,  **“I want to hear everything before you rest, you look nearly about to drop.”**

…

Panicked glances filled the Lonely Mountain at the creeping sound of hooves grew louder until the clear Dwarven horn sounded through the air granting creeping smiles onto the faces of the armor clad Company. On a slow approach for the Mountain Dain’s men rode while you rode alone on your gifted giant ram to make your way through the open plains to enter the forest once again. Nearly to noon your head drooped forward at your falling asleep stirring the Elf on patrol to climb down from their hidden perch to climb onto the back of the ram at its slowing due to your body’s attempt at slumping over.

Approaching the castle you slept against the Elf’s chest until the waiting King alerted to your arrival approached noticing his out of place guard clutching your slumped form. Stepping forward his arms raised in relief that you were merely exhausted, claiming the task of holding you against his chest to carry you inside while the guard returned to his post and Tauriel carried your bag listening to the King say, “I am certain you simply need to rest now. We can discuss the finalizing of our contract later.” Trying his best to hold his calm expression at your arms shifting to clutch around his neck tighter as you mumbled to yourself in Hobbitish through the wave of silent tears easing down your cheeks and the wave of pain coursing through you at yet another dream flooded with images of your former life and how it should have continued.

Back again in your previously gifted room he lowered you to the bed where Tauriel stepped forward after setting down your bag to aid in releasing your grip on the King’s robe, a task heartbreakingly painful to him at the scrunched up expression forming on your face through another stream of tears over your pale cheeks from your pink slightly puffy shut eyelids.  **“Please, Mahal don’t leave me alone.”**  Slid out from you in a near pleading exhale causing the King’s head to tilt unsure of what you’d said, only knowing it revealed another painful stab in the King’s chest at your slumbering sniffle through rolling over to curl into a ball around your pillow as he covered you carefully once Tauriel had set your boots beside the bed revealing the bandages under the near tattered layer.

Turning away they both left, Tauriel in a path to find you a replacement pair of boots and the King headed for the large Garden Ballroom their Feast of Starlight was to be held in once again. Mere moments after entering the grounds he spotted and made a straight line to his Son who was giving final decisions on the minor details to meet his Father’s liking one moment then stood stunned in a tight embrace from the King. Leaving his hands extended at his sides for an exhale before feeling the cheek rubbing against his forehead to nuzzle closer to him drawing one arm to circle the King’s back in return while his other hand tapped on the far left of the three plate designs offered to him before joining its twin around the King. In a relaxing exhale the King clutched him tighter at the same mumbled statement or, “It’s things like this that makes others call us strange.”

Nuzzling closer to his Son he mentally repeated his same endearment, “I Love You My Little Leaf. No harm will find you here.”

“I know Ada. I Love You too.” As the King drew back Legolas’ face shifted spotting the out of place tears across his cheek after their common Man-stolen trait of endearment, “What happened.”

“Miss Pear-Baggins returned. Something broke her heart.” Another tear slid down his cheek, “Her incredibly pure heart is breaking, and I fear it is nothing we can mend.”

Legolas nodded, “Is she bathing? We could send up some teas, or, food, Hobbits are at ease around food, right?”

Through a weak smile Thranduil replied, “I fear food cannot do much for this pain. All we can do is wait for the damage to heal on its own.” Earning a nod from the Prince who tried and failed to distract himself and the King with more deciding of the final details.

..

Alone in a familiar cocoon of soft sheets you awoke groaning heavily from the nearly unbearable weight in your chest from the radiating yet stabbing near constant pain from your night of painful dreaming. After taking in a breath you eased over to the edge of the bed and bit back your pained hiss at adding weight to your painfully injured and bruised feet then crossed to the small bath to scrub your face only to flinch at your stained and worn reflection looking back at you. Once in your younger years you’d imagined yourself at least tolerable to those around you, but now, in this state the upcoming tradition of thievery stabbed deeply at you on the thought of being worthy of being discovered as the thief at all. True it had been to aid the then Prince in not being trapped in a courtship with the wrong Dam, who later ended up being shaved and banished along with her kin at their discovered treachery, but could you ever imagine yourself to be enough for a King.

Lowering your gaze to the water you focused on scrubbing your exposed skin as best you could trying to force back the sneers possible suitors your Grandfather had suggested had once sent your way. Beardless and more Hobbitish than tolerable for most Dwarves tastes, no, clearly not enough, besides, a King needs heirs, full blooded heirs to take his place one day, something you could never grant him. With another warm trail sinking down your cheek your head turned at the group of Healers that had knocked on the door to your bath eyeing your trembling stance before they quickly crossed to you, aiding in your stripping then placed you on a stool for minor mending of wounds as your soaking herb bath was drawn.

Secured in your newly gifted simple velvet gown while your belongings were being mended and scrubbed you claimed your place at the table in the Royal Dining hall at the lone table setting for your meal as you stole yet another glimpse at the bundled up chest you set beside you having assumed to being taken to offer the trade off to the King. Alone you finished the large helping as the guard repeated the King’s mildly worded order to do so to recover your strength, leaving your chest mildly stinging knowing the Dwarves probably weren’t having a feast like this after their travels. But you obeyed then thanked the guard and servants coming to clear the table gaining smiles from them while you cradled the chest and carried it to wherever the guard was leading you.

Glancing around you took in the details of the castle until the bustling gardens came into view with the King floating his way over to you through them with a somewhat relieved expression on his face. “You look much better, Miss Pear-Baggins.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty, you can just say Pear, if it’s easier, the Dwarves do.”

His head nodded and he motioned his hand for you to join him to the same meeting room you’d formed your first contract in where he said though claiming his seat, “Business first, then I have a request of you.” You nodded and claimed your chair at his offer, “Please, sit.”

Wetting your lips you set the chest on the table before him and eased onto the tall chair setting your feet on the bar between the legs at your inability to reach the ground. “Jewels and necklace as promised Your Majesty.” Carefully he untied your ribbon you’d wrapped it in to keep it from spilling out at any possible jostling before exhaling slowly at the glowing gems inside casting light onto his already glowing figure then gently drew the intricate necklace out for inspection before putting it all away again and wrapping the bow just as you had. Turning his head to face you, he smiled at you softly and asked, “How were your travels? I heard you accompanied the Iron Hills Dwarves back to Erebor, and there is news of more forces joining soon from the South.”

“It was peaceful. I um, needed the silence. I do apologize for taking so long to pass over the jewels, I simply wished to be alone for a time.” Thanduil’s head nodded at his watching the pain surface again in your eyes restarting your struggle not to cry. “We, bundled the fallen. My, Grandparents included.” His lips parted, “Or, what was left of them, merely ash and golden beads.” Drawing the King’s eyes to the burned beads secured in new braids woven on the left side of your face. “I’m sorry, I-.”

His hand extended to rest on yours on your lap, “You have nothing to apologize for. I trust you. I knew you would honor our terms. Did Thorin give you any difficulties with collecting the gems?”

You shook your head, “You held your word, no reason for us not to hold to ours. If, you meant Dragon Sickness,” Your eyes rose to his catching his nod at your correct guess, “Then no. He showed signs at first, but then they all aided with the bundling and, his eyes cleared.”

Thranduil exhaled again, “I am glad to hear that.” Easing his hand over the back of yours to raise it palm side up allowing him to examine the now gone blisters and cuts on both. “Now that you are physically mended and bathed, my request is to claim your first dance at the Feast of Starlight, of which you and all of Thorin’s kin are welcome to, your Cousin Bilbo as well.”

“Of course your Majesty.” His smile returned, “Good, your clothes should be ready shortly as well as your ram for my guards to escort you safely back to Erebor to prepare for tomorrow night’s festivities along with passing on the report of the finalized contract and all that.” You nodded again as he looked you over once again. “I don’t believe I’ve given you the full tour yet.” He rose to his feet urging you to do the same and claim his side for the lengthy walk until you were finally led back to the gates after collecting your things and new gifts you thanked him heavily for along the way before the two hour long trip back.


	2. Chapter 2

Facing forward once you reached the small bridge finally the smirks greeting you from the guards on watch in the overlook grew at your nearing while you caught a few heads turning to pass on word of your location. Brushing your gown down over your legs at your sideways turn, from your former spot resting your curled right leg around the knot on your saddle at the taunt layer of velvet coating your legs, your new boots soon met the ground after your simple slide from the smooth saddle while your ram turned his head with a wag of his tail to steal one last nuzzle from you before joining the guard exiting to collect and lead him to the inner stables with the rest of the herd. Turning your head you bowed your head to Tauriel who passed you your pack and joined the other Elves, who had also respectfully bid you farewell, on their path back again.

Within moments you were through the gate shouldering your pack and taking the winding path to the meeting room beside throne room where you were told Dain and his captains were with Thorin forming their battle plans at their ravens returning with progress on the forces marching towards them. Easily through the crowds of soldiers mingled with the small troop of healers and Dams unwilling to leave their kin and Husbands to traveling alone to their home all granting you respectful head bows on your silent path by them. Through the crowd word rippled of your return while all eyes seemed to travel over your Elven styled layers clinging tightly to you along with the jeweled clasp the Elf King had gifted you to secure the base of your thick braid that attached to the silver bands woven through the woven length of hair shimmering brightly from the torches.

Exhaling slowly you passed through the ajar double doors hearing all the men trading hushed suggestions of what the best options would be continuing until a lone pair of glowing blue eyes locked onto your approaching figure. Within moments their conversation hushed and the new King in his freshly polished crown stepped around the small group with a creeping smile shattering his former set in scowl. “Jaqi.”

His informal greeting of you through his once over glance at your gifted layers deepening his smile on his approach as you replied after a nod towards the open door revealing the distant glimmer marking the returned stone inside the throne. “I see your Burglar was successful.”

After a chuckle he paused before you eyeing you again before his hand gently met the back of your shoulder after his curling you in a loose hug welcoming you back drawing the eye of all the curious men around you. “He was.” His tongue darted out to wet his lips after his step back again to lock his eyes with yours once again, “How were your travels? Did they give you much trouble?”

You shook your head and he caught a lingering hint of exhaustion in your soft blank expression, “No. I fell asleep on the path in, King Thranduil let me rest and gifted me another set of clothes and boots when he sent me back. Went rather easily, though he did have two requests.”

Dain scoffed behind Thorin mumbling, “Knew it.”

Your eyes shifted from the fiery haired Dwarf shifting on his feet to Thorin again who was once again eyeing your face for any trace of what it might be, “He requested we join him for the Feast of Starlight.” Their expressions all softened, “The invitation is extended to all willing Dwarves.”

Thorin, “And the second?”

“That I grant him my first dance.” His brow rose, “Just hope it’s not that leaping one, can’t imagine having to keep up with him and those legs of his.” Stirring a smirk and chuckle from the Kings before you.

Thorin nodded his head, “Well if you are going we surely will.” Stepping back again he turned saying, “We can always pick this up again later. I wanted to show you something.”

After a nod you joined his side for a long walk through the darkened halls as Dain curiously followed behind watching flickers of light shining across your pale green layer and swaying metal woven braid tapping against your pack beside his men doing the same. A faint firelight grew before you as did the sound of soft weeping on your path to the sacred grounds within the mountain under the base of a giant statue of Mahal leading to the Burial plot meant for the Kings under the Mountain. The platform between two on looking statues held different platforms bearing the bodies of those you’d so carefully prepared surrounded by their kin readying themselves for the following cremation while giving their future urns they had crafted the traditional taps and strokes.

All heads rose to meet your gaze before grateful bows were granted to you on your path through to the well lit doorway leading to Thror’s tomb in which his urn was placed lovingly in its proper home in the first indent in the deep green marble wall marked for each King following him. In a small group the three Dams gathered behind the on looking Princes all mentally saying their own words to their former King. On your left your name was called out by Dwalin and Balin as they led the remaining Durins from the Company to greet you with pleased smiles and approving glances of your properly scrubbed and mended appearance. The lot of them leading you through after your own respectful head bow to King Thror as you mentally welcomed him home again then turned to gaze through to the empty room attached leading to another wall of indents meant for the highest level Dwarves and allies to the King. The platform in the middle bearing the large single shimmering urn stirring warm trails of tears down your cheeks in your silent realization of who was inside, bearing the runes of your Grandparent’s names.

Thorin, “We handled the transfer for you. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, thank you for handling the task.” His hand met the back of your shoulder beginning a gentle stroke on your back as you approached to gently add your own set of taps and strokes to the urn before the final pressing of your forehead to it once Dwalin claimed your bag. Straightening up again you locked eyes with Queen Niro approaching with a gentle bow of her head before claiming the task of transferring the urn to their new home on the wall bearing a polished plaque with their runes and Titles on it. With a final mental goodbye you joined the company on its path up to the Royal Wing again as a long line of Dwarves all awaiting their chances to say goodbye to the brave pair, bowing their heads to you once again for your loss as you passed.

.

Warm light after a long stretch of dark grew before you as a soft conversation between the Ri brothers and Bilbo all readying the meal they hoped you would be back in time for and stopped with growing smiles after you’d wiped your cheeks once again. Breaking through the rest Bilbo chuckled weakly curling you into a tight hug as he said, “Knew you’d be back soon.” Stepping back he smiled up at you after looking you over, “I take it your clothes must have been in a state for such a gift.”

After chuckling you nodded, “Nearly tattered. But no matter. You, Bilbo need to ready your best, we’ve been invited to a Feast tomorrow night.”

Widening his smile, “Really? With the Elves? I have been wondering what a celebration of theirs would be like.” Leading you to your chair he claimed the one on your left while Thorin took his on your right with the others following after around the large table.

By nightfall a distant Dwarven Horn sounded signaling the approach of the final three Dwarf Kings with large groups of Dams mingled in. All entering proudly to meet with the King as the kin of more of the fallen claimed their own chances to say a proper goodbye to their relatives before taking their rest as the rest eyed you and Bilbo, the only out of place creatures in the growing sea of Dwarves in these deep green halls. Once silence had taken hold of the Mountain you returned to your apartment again with Bilbo at your side giving you one last hug before timidly stepping away to Bifur’s side to join him and his Brothers in their gifted apartment.

Through your re-opened eyes the darkness inside the timidly scrubbed apartment grew around you. A steady exhale left you in your walk inside where you grabbed your bag from the table by the door to head to your bedroom once again lighting the lamp in the hallway along the way with a match drawn from your pack. Slowly you looked over the room as the light from the fire you built inside the fireplace spread to dance across the walls through lingering echoes of your Grandmother’s soft nightly humming filled the apartment. A warm trail slid down your cheek again as you unpacked your belongings, leaving your Burglar’s pouch for last to set on your bedside table. Unable to sleep just yet you turned away, walking through to light another fire in the sitting room sending the mild chill trapped inside to flee before you lit another match to light the lantern in your kitchen to find your kettle to brew yourself some tea.

Yet another echo began through the rooms, your Grandfather joining in his love’s humming with a deeply vibrating voice warming you right through. Softly you joined the pair in a hushed soprano tone contrasting their low pitches as you added your last pouch of tea into your mug after your momentary struggle against adding theirs beside it. The bubbling of the kettle grew louder until you removed it without its having to whistle, emptying the water to brew your tea then set it back on the oven on a cool burner as you doused the flame in the lit one. Drawing back in another verse you eyed the small tin on your counter stirring an inspection of your cupboards to find a small portion of rations, including a couple cookies Dori had managed to hide from Dwalin to save for you. A hint of a smile eased onto your face as you grabbed one and made your way with your mug into the sitting room.

With their echoes your eyes flashed glimpses of the loving pair with locked hands in their neighboring chairs sending you loving gazes through your path to the bench along the wall. Easing yourself to the center you left your mug and cookie beside you while your fingers slid along the cloth covering the instrument before you, folding it back you found the latch to unlock the cover to the hidden keys on your hand carved piano King Thror had once gifted you. Beginning the next verse your fingers trailed the lingering tune into life filling the quiet halls around you and spilled into the Royal Wing outside through the open messenger raven’s door Roac had gently opened to slip inside.

The final note ended with Thorin’s reaching his bedroom door breaking his trance from your voice bearing the ability to entrance him entirely at its uniqueness in the vast swarm of deep bellows each Dwarf could give life to. His voice clearly not matching theirs, in the usual Durin fashion, sitting at a slightly higher pitch that mingled with yours perfectly to his ears and that of the Company around you in their enforced performances. Turning your head you spotted the lone Raven eyeing you on its walk closer to you on the top of the piano, with an extended palm you collected the shining smooth stone from between his beak with a soft smile, “Thank you.”

The feathers around his beak puffed up at his flash of a grin, “Your kin were always kind to mine. They will be greatly missed.” Your head bowed after his did signaling his quiet departure as you covered the keys once again, rising to place the stone on your mantle before gathering your mug and cookie to ease into your own chair. Sipping slowly on the warm brew hoping to ease the sinking of your lingering loneliness returning once again after the deep stab of having gotten so used to the company of men around you each day and night. Somehow you settled into it comfortably, wrapping your loneliness around you, not struggling against it at all, giving in to what you imagined your future to be.

Long quiet days passing messages, if Thorin granted you your old job back, and the silent nights with nothing but your memories of the smiling faces once surrounding you as the others moved on. In your darkest moments this was what you imagined the Elves close to mortals should feel, lingering on the sidelines while life moved on around you. Holding to your schedule to try and hold some semblance of comfort in the never releasing pain of these quiet rooms only filling with noise at your own willingness to release it, a thought bearing pain in itself. Silence settled around you once again until you emptied your mug and left it on the counter in your path to your bed. Leaving your hair decoration on the bedside table after dousing your lamps to ease under the near painfully heavy sheets above the strangely soft mattress you sank into and drifted off finally to the familiar crackle of the fire sending its light dancing over you.

…

Thundering your way up the side of the ruined city of Dale you raised the orc banner you fashioned into a spear and let it fly. The eyes of the blonde Prince widened at the object sailing just past his head sending it flying into Bolg’s skull as well as the two orcs behind him. Leaping up you raced along the crumbling wall at your side before your jump to crash into the falling Prince sending him and you into the chest of his stunned Brother before your rolling path. 

Frantically your hands gripped on the one jagged stone in your roll nearly out of the collapsed half of the building, your hands soon covered by the Princes at their aid in lifting you up once again to your feet before circling up with you as the orcs from above chased after you. Easily they fell and you three found your way down again out a set of back stairs before a string of wargs and orcs divided you sending you towards the former center square as the boys were soon grouped around by their elder kin shouting at the Elves racing after you in their urge to aid you.

In a skid you stopped and dropped to your knees avoiding the swing of a giant boulder seeming to come from nowhere. Turning your head you spotted the chain attached to it and followed that to the lone white orc holding it as the other orcs circled the square. Wetting your lips your mind raced at the best way to bring him down with this weapon as he readied for another swing as your ears rung with echoes of the Elven blades slicing through the orcs to get to you. Your body rolled to your right avoiding the boulder crashing on your left before your lunge forward avoiding the snap of a warg trying to sneak up on you falling right after to an Elven arrow as your hands gripped the hilts of your blade on your cracked sword that buried in Azog’s chest, just a bit too far to the right as your hilt snapped free from the blade. His body staggered back a few steps at the force of your feet settling on his chest.

Looking to your left you gripped the chain attached to the metal rod piercing his severed arm and kicked on his chest as hard as you could sending you falling to the ground as his dark blood sprayed at the massive wounds you had inflicted. In a matter of seconds Elves overtook the square while Fili and Kili slipped through gripping your arms to guide you onto your feet and circle with you again to claim the few orcs slipping through after Fili passed you one of his dozens of hidden blades. 

Through a teary gaze after the sting of a quickly landed blow to your face you were barely able to block from the final orc driving you to a knee, closing your eyes through slow steady breaths at the radiating pain from the arm you’d used to block now clearly fractured at least mingling with the pain from the two black shafts buried in your left thigh from hours earlier. Lifting your head at the palms meeting your cheeks your eyes took in the scanning eye of the Elf King drawing you against his chest at his contact alerting him to your wounds.

All heads darted to the King leaping onto a tall wall for a clear shot to the healers back in Erebor as his Son and guards trailed after him as the Durins circled to join them while Dain led his men to scour the rest of the city alongside the others Dwarf Kings while they silently muttered their wished for your quick recovery for the sake of their fellow King clearly having fallen for you. 

Back in the deep green halls you eyed the Elves as your swimming head settled at the first of the herbs and teas you were offered. With relieved sighs they eyed the arrows thankfully poison free, but with the splintered wood used to craft them it would increase your pain from healing, easily managed with a couple days rest but painful none the less. With a brace on your arm and a bandage on your cream coated cheek you were curled in the arms of the Elf King once again claiming the task of carrying you back up to your apartment with the skidding Company soon locking onto him and trailing after him.

Grouping around the Elf King their eyes landed on you as you rubbed your free hand over your brows at the itch the drying black blood sliding down your skin from your braided back hair.

Fili, “You alright there Jaqi?”

“Fractured arm, and some bandages on my thigh and cheek, and I think I split my elbow in that tackle.”

Thranduil glanced down at you, “If you did we will mend it once we get you scrubbed clean.”

You nodded and caught Thorin’s eyes as he flashed you a weak smile, “Quite an impressive strategy.”

You shrugged, “Either I ripped it out or he tried to swing it again.” Stirring his smile wider as he nodded again.

Kili stepped forward, “And don’t worry, we grabbed your hilt. We can bronze it or something if you like.”

You flashed him a soft smile as Bilbo stepped forward opening your front door to let you all inside as Bifur and Bofur lit your lanterns and Bombur started a small meal for you. All waiting as Tauriel helped you strip and scrub clean between reaches out for supplies for the huge gash on your elbow now bleeding freely at the removal of your arm covers. Quickly with the aid of the healer joining her it ceased and was coated and wrapped tightly before you allowed Tauriel to help you brush through your long curls ensuring you got everything trapped in your curls free. Once clean you changed into a clean pair of pants, socks and a deep green sweater bearing the color of your former station among the countless servants obedient to the King. In a limping walk you exited with your curls laying free except for the few woven braids in the shorter strip on the left side of your face marking your kin.

Around you the men smiled watching as you settled into your normal chair at the small table as the Elves remained sitting with you as the rest went to scrub and change in their own apartments. Looking up from your plate to the Elf King you caught his hint of a smile as he tore another piece free from the roll you had offered him. “I guess you’re a bit irritated.” His brow rose, “Going to all that trouble for a party and the morning of there’s a call to arms.”

A smile eased across his face, “In the contrary, our orchids needed another night to bloom fuller. And now, we have something new to add to the celebration.” Glancing over you again at your next timid bite with your sore jaw he added, “I’ll have more herbs brought up. You’ll be fully healed by tomorrow night, perhaps a bit sore still, but your wounds fully healed after you rest.”

“Thank you.” After taking a sip of the tea the Healer had passed you you asked, “You aren’t going to get checked?”

He smiled again, “I didn’t gain any serious injuries. They can wait until you’re in bed.”

You nodded and met the Prince’s eye as he shared some of the details for the Feast that happened to fall on the same night as Burglar’s Day. Slowly the strong herbs soaked in as your meal was finished leading the Elves to help you into bed for a long night and day of deep sleeping while they took effect. Your soft glow in the firelight easing their worry at your Hobbit side adding to the effectiveness of them, in their minds leaving you surely almost completely healed by the Feast.

…

Around you the Dwarves popped in to check on you before heading off to their own beds while Bilbo, at Bofur’s place on watch tonight, curled up beside you resting his arm across your chest as he snuggled against your side. Through the day you rested and sluggishly rose for a small meal before your primping. Working your hair into a tall ponytail you braided with your gifted hair bands and clasp before adding the three flower shaped clasps between them, then going to your closet and finding your lone gown fitting still and equal to the occasion. Easily you fit into the once breath taking corset now a bit snug but far better for breathing freely that you used to pin the front of your gown to at your lack of time for proper tailoring.

Barely hanging loose an inch when you bent forward on the front, your comfort at least that with the lacing on the back held it in place. With a hold on the front you turned walking to the small silver box on your shelf to draw out the set of jeweled clips you snapped into place across your chest. You held it against your corset as you stole a glance at yourself in your mirror, eyeing the loose straps formerly constricting into the sides of your shoulders, now dangling freely at the loss of your extra cushioning from your pampered days.

Lowering your gaze over the pale green velvet dress coated in silver geometric designs around the top and in green on the silver triangle down the front of the thickly layered skirt. Withholding your tears once again you nodded your head after mumbling, “Quite a poor image I’ll cast beside the Kings.” In a struggle to remain calm you added your dark grey fur lined cloak to cover yourself for the trip to the Elf Kingdom. Taking your place behind Bilbo and Bofur at the back of the line of Company members for the long walk down to the gates, into the waiting wagons and carriages pulled by your rams and horses from the Elves.

.

Back in line again you followed the others into the glowing castle as the sun began to set covering you all in a pink and golden light. At the large doorway you stopped at the rows of tables and racks for robes and cloaks for each clan, as your fingers rose to unhook your cloak Fili and Kili with large grins approached you as the latter said,  **“Allow us.”**

Lowering your hands you felt a pair of hands slip the cloak free as the other drew it from your shoulders just as a cold metal pressed onto your chest while Fili before you whispered against your ear,  **“From Uncle. Knew you’d need something extra.”**

With parted lips your fingers on your unbraced hand rose to slide over the necklace covering most of your exposed chest and stopping barely an inch above your cleavage formed with large stones widening the smiles of the Company. On his path to the doorway Nori stole an approving glance of you and tilted his small pocket mirror in your direction allowing you to see the diamond formed creation you’d never be able to afford even after a hundred lifetimes of service. With his wink at you he snapped it shut as Fili gently claimed your arm to guide you inside as he whispered,  **“Don’t forget to breathe Jaqi.”** Your eyes met his as he smiled at you brightly through Kili’s claiming your other arm and adding,  **“You look incredible by the way. Glad we settled on out silver lined robes, we all match now.”**

After a nod you looked forward again as Thorin’s name was called after his Grandmother and Mother, both on his arms for their path inside with growing grins as you softly squeaked at your being announced as a Lady. Kili leaned in on your path to your seat to say,  **“There’s a price to saving the lives of the Crown Princes.”**

Fili nodded and they both said,  **“Titles.”**

Shifting your gaze your eyes locked with Thorin in his frozen stance looking you up and down, only breaking through his daze as you stood in front of your seat waiting for him to claim his. All around you the Dwarves filed in, each in the finest they had surprisingly leaving you and the Company among the dozen or so returned Dwarves able to draw from your abandoned belongings for the occasion dressed close to your former elegance. Rising to his feet with the moon peeking out Thranduil addressed everyone before calling for the dancing to start, casting you a soft smile that caused you to take a sip of your wine before claiming his hand accepting his partnering for the first dance. On your path out you eyed your place at his shoulder while on your toes making the dance far easier for you in your stretching.

Looking you up and down he said,  _“Simply breath taking.”_

_“King Thorin gifted me the necklace.”_

His eyes rose to meet yours,  _“The necklace is nice as well.”_  Causing your brow to tick up as he bowed to you raising your hand to his lips along with all the other males as the females curtsied. Rising again he added,  _“If he doesn’t see to it you return to your pampered state you are always welcome here.”_

 _“That, is an incredible offer, thank you_.” He smiled and nodded his head at you eying your faint glow rising brighter as the moon rose.

All through the twirling lift filled dance you drew the eye of the Dwarves close enough to see at your surprisingly still flawless movements through the Elven dances he led you through before a Dwarven dance was called and Thorin led his Mother back to her seat and claimed your hand after you’d had another few sips of your wine. His smile deepened through his low rumbled compliment at your side on your way to the floor,  **“Simply stunning. The necklace as well.”**

After wetting your lips you stammered out,  **“Thank you.”**

Taking your bows to one another his lips found your knuckles before rising and stepping closer to take his hold on you,  **“I actually was aiming for something much higher than Lady, but Grandmother insisted you would refuse it. For now it should do.”**  His fingers slid over the scar on the side of your elbow before your locked hands rose for your first spin.

**“I don’t need a title.”**

**“Regardless, you have one, and none will dare claim otherwise.”** Tightening his grip around your middle through that dance and the dozen after before you broke for dinner remaining at his side, mainly at his following you around locked onto the sight of your smile and soft glow as the wine slowly took effect easing your tight hold on your happiness just for the celebration where even the most disapproving of your former suitors couldn’t take his eyes off you in your near giggling mess of a state as you and Thorin tried to share a story with the Princes about King Thror. Your loud laugh breaking free as you nearly doubled over unable to continue speaking as Thorin chuckled through the rest watching you lovingly as you covered your face trying to muffle your laughs. Only drawing squeaks from you in your next inhale before your next laugh escaped and your shoulders shook once again as you tried to hide behind the brightly beaming King allowing his own loud laugh to break free and mingle with the others around him at the end of the story.

.

Wine flowed freely and somehow the tipsy Elves managed to find room for all the Dwarves, including you in your previously assigned room. Blindly you smacked your lips as you sat on the edge of your bed and plopped back on the bed, turning your head as your lips smacked again through your sudden drop into sleep. Nearly to noon you all slept, at least almost all of you. Scattered in the group were a few Dams still aiming to continue the tradition, along with another who crept into your room to gently place a tassle under your curled fingers on your open palm at your side.

.

Rising up you blinked your eyes adjusting to the light before your head turned to look at what was curled in your fingers. Furrowing your brows you eyed your position and blinked again realizing you hadn’t moved hardly at all leaving you to wonder at who had stolen the tassle in the first place. At the knock on your door you secured it inside your Burglar’s pouch that was curiously laying at your side as well. A breakfast greeted you all at the mercy of the Elves for the few hung over Dwarves in your midst as well as the Elf King not wishing to send you away unfed.

.

Filing into Erebor the pleased Dams all nearly skipped at the night of celebrating on their path to the large hall outside the throne room ready to hear the words the new King had prepared for the occasion. Listening as closely as you could your smile struggled to remain contained at his near constant eye contact with you with a bright smile of his own and a chuckle as he bit his lip and stepped forward joining the line of Dwarves stolen from as Queen Niro took his place in leading this portion of the celebration as the Princes not so subtly nudged a table closer to their Uncle’s back until he finally stood alone on the stairs with another soft chuckle at the joking comments the Dwarves before him called out hoping ‘ **hundredth time’s the charm’**. Raising his eyes he glanced at his Grandmother as she patted his shoulder with a smile and asked,  **“Have your names?”**

He nodded,  **“Yes.”**  Chuckling again he wet his lips and caught your eye smiling as he called your name stirring the Bur Brothers behind you along with Bilbo to give you a gentle nudge to fulfill your task and possibly join the other Dams he’d asked before to flash your empty pouch. Lowering your hands around the pouch you untied from your waist you climbed the steps to stand at his side biting back your giggle as you held your near blank expression as he asked,  **“Lady Pear, would you please return my tassle?”**

His hopeful glimmer in his eyes grew as your smile inched out at your asking,  **“Which one?”**

His eyes blinked as he parroted back your question in a confused tone,  **“Which one?”**

Your head nodded as you unhooked the lath on your pouch and eyed the table Fili nudged closer to you with his boot as the crowd all bore anxious smiles as soft wagers were made on how many you had claimed. His smile couldn’t help but grow as he watched the tassles pour out onto the table, soon growing into a bright blush over his raised cheeks at the sheer volume contained in your small pouch. Though when his head turned and your eyes locked he could have sworn he froze entirely at the bright smile you flashed him in return but everyone else simply saw his step forward to cup your cheeks and finally claim your long awaited kiss through the raucous cheers through the halls.

Hand in hand you walked back up to your rooms as gold was traded on the floors below, all as a near skimping Hobbit joined your side to state in Hobbitish, “Happy Durins Day!” Firing a wink at you before he slipped into Bofur’s apartment while Fili and Kili behind you called out the final tally confirming your hundred stolen tassles returned to your pouch they left in your hand with winks of their own before slipping into their own apartment. 

Alone in the hall you turned to Thorin as he rumbled sweetly,  **“See, soon you’ll be much higher than a Lady.”** His hands eased around you middle and cheek as he inched closer,  **“I have no words for how deeply it pains me that I missed this. I said your name so many times in my dreams I believed it to be true.”** Stopping a breath away from your lips he pled softly,  **“Forgive me?”**  His only answer came through your lips landing on his nearly causing him to melt against you as he clutched you closely, parting only to purr against your ear,  **“Menu Tessu, My Queen.”**  (You mean everything to me) before his lips met your cheek.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short and to the point but the next couple parts will just bring it all together with all the drama and river of nonsense the Dwarves and Elves both stir up.

Seated in the sitting room of the Bur Brother’s apartment Bilbo sat happily flexing his toes after the lingering tingle from the nights worth of dancing he and Bofur had encountered before his own plot to spread a long awaited bit of happiness to his dear distant Cousin. Through your letters and a few sketched he’d managed to find of the Royal Wing in your small library, when the Company was waiting for your healing bath after the battle to kick in, he’d taken note of the set of hidden doors and tunnels you’d utilized for your more devious plots. With the boys gathered around you admiring your fur lined cloak, sneaking a hidden finger signal to the Burglar to sneak to your apartment and search for the missing accessory to your outfit.

The long lines led to the carriages and wagons, Bilbo and Bofur’s conveniently hosted the Princes as well while Bifur and Bombur shared yours. With wide grins Fili and Kili scooted closer to Bilbo asking, “You got it?”

Bilbo nodded and pulled it out eyeing it again, in a curious glance down at his waist Kili unstrapped his and raised it to sit beside yours saying, “Hold on…Fi, look at how puffy it is…”

Fili, “Ya. I  wonder how many she’s stolen.”

Bofur chuckled, “Majority’s saying the full century.”

Kili chuckled adding his pouch around his waist once again as Fili’s hands shifted around the velvet lined box containing their Uncle’s gift for you they were saving until you had no choice but to wear it to the celebration at having nowhere to slip it off or hide it.

Kili, “Dain picked at least thirty. Has to be at least since before Azanulbizar.”

Bilbo’s brow rose, “Az-…”

Bofur chuckled softly claiming his hand to rest on his thigh, “The battle we won Moria back in.”

Bilbo, “Why would she start trying to court him after a battle? Not very romantic.”

Fili’s brows rose, “That’s when Great Grandfather practically claimed her as a Grandchild.” Eyeing Bilbo’s continuing confused expression he continued, “She planned the battle, snuck them all in.” Bilbo shrugged, “She killed the balrog! She didn’t mention any of this to you?!”

Bilbo shook his head, “Mainly she sent sketches of her travels. Translations. Barely mentioned battles at all unless to explain damages or shift of borders.” He wet his lips, “Wait, is that why you were so quick to allow her to battle Erebor and I was locked inside the Mountain?”

Kili, “She was the one that killed Azog the first time, that’s why Uncle thought it wasn’t true about him being brought back again.”

Fili smirked at him after sharing a glance with his Brother, “Well at least we’ve got more than enough time to share the story.”

Kili nodded, “Two hours, plenty of time.”

…

_ Moria _ . For years the name had echoed through the Dwarven halls. Fleeing Erebor hadn’t left you in the best place to reclaim the once great Dwarven Utopia formerly housing their first woken Durin the Deathless. But nearly thirty years later as the forces were able to heal and reform their armor and weapons to consider the trip once again. 

Behind the great King Thror you entered the hall of Kings and Dwarven Lords gathering at his request, stirring them all into a surge of questions as to what it could be about. Curiously through scowls they all eyed you in the mix a few steps behind the identical Brothers behind their Grandfather while their Father Thrain had claimed the seat beside his Father waiting for the plans to be announced.

In the seats behind Thror and Thrain Thorin and Frerin sat as you stood behind them. Inching closer with the help of Thorin, who had reached back slyly to grip the laces on your boot to pull you closer to their backs, allowing you a better view. And marking you closer to the rank the Durins had already settled you as near to a Noble even with their inability to gift you a title to replace your former one just yet. 

In a clear proud tone Thror laid out the plans, drawing up more than a few eyebrows before the typical set of maps and models were set out on the table between the now standing Lords trying to get a better glimpse of the latest imagined plans to lure the Orcs and Goblins out allowing them a chance at slipping inside. The longer you listened your eyes lowered to the floor before the Princes, both stealing glimpses up at you with your distracted expression causing them to share a silent signed conversation about you across their laps and out of sight form the others.

Finally with their spotting the parchment packed journal you had absently pulled from your bag loosely hanging from your left hand before you. In a silent nudge Thorin drew your eyes to his, bringing his smirk to your attention allowing him to sign to you, “Any better ideas?” The flicker of certainty in your gaze nearly caused Frerin to laugh out loud, a reaction he only halted by clearing his throat loudly causing the others to turn and look at him. A subtle sign on his lap brought a smirk to Thror’s face before his turn to say, “Perhaps we should hear Miss Pear’s ideas.”

All eyes shifted to you through the protective glare Thror sent out to silence any notions of speaking out against your ideas while the boys tapped your legs signaling your walking around them to approach the table, claiming Thror’s side to present your ideas while Frerin claimed hold of your bag. Standing eagerly to see what you had pulled together for the Dwarf Lords. Once at the table the room fell silent as you pulled out a folded set of maps you had drawn up and set out earning a round of scoffs from the Broadbeam Clan Lord quickly joined in by the Ironfists and Stiffbeards while the rest rolled their eyes except for the now scowling Durins. Across the table Gorn, Broadbeam Clan Lord chortled out, “This is your plan? Carving doors into the eastern walls?!”

His next laugh came when his Brother joined in, “Three meter thick mountain wall to break through there Lass.”

His laugh died at your steady inhale and fiery glare quickly silencing the others when they spotted it, “My Grandfather was keeper to the King’s Jewels in Erebor, a title his elder Brother in Moria had held before he fell in its sacking.”

Nain interrupted you to say, “This is all fine and-.” Softly he exhaled while his hand formed a circle in the air before him, “We don’t have time to carve through any portion of the keep, Durin’s last try for it took that plan and we all know how that ended.”

Glancing down you collected three more maps and laid them out bringing their urge to lean forward to an uncontrollable reaction wondering just what your maps were, “As I was saying, to protect the King’s Jewels is to know all the keeps passages and exits to each Kingdom, even those known only to their craftors.”

All eyes rose to fall on you again as Frerin glanced over your shoulder asking, “These are already built then?”

You nodded and replied, “Yes. Though the Western and Southern doors only open from inside and the Northern one requires a key for both sides, a key hidden in a statue inside the keep.”

Thror, “Is there one we can open?”

“Two, the others would have to be opened from inside.” A glimmer of hope spread across their faces as you continued, “Now, if you were to divide into groups you could each file into the keep, I’ve marked the rooms most secure, you could fortify that room and hall, force them to funnel into it, make it easier to rotate forces and defend your ground wearing them out. Now these are from centuries back, so they would have to be scouted first and plans adjusted, but if we could quietly get in and seal it then catch them by surprise, it could work. Clear out a room at a time.”

Gorn, “And just how are we to get all these doors unlocked?”

“Easy, you camp outside the doors.”

Nain, “And just who among us do you imagine achieving the locating of necessary keys and doors inside this infested dwelling?”

Your eyes met his as you responded nearly dropping the Durin’s jaws when you said, “Me.”

Thorin softly said, “Jaqi.”

Your eyes shifted to Thror as he said, “Dear, I understand, you wish to play a part in all this, I do…” His words broke as he tried to think of what to say.

“Your Majesty, how many decades was I able to slip in and out without you hearing me?” His lips parted, “I’m half Hobbit, far stealthier than any of you could be in your thick armor. Not even mentioning I know where all the keys are and I’ve memorized all of the floor plans, including the hidden passageways making traveling through the Kingdom unseen far easier. Trying to pass on notes to another would just be absurd.”

Shakily they allowed that thought to simmer, eventually agreeing when they saw none among them capable of facing this task so easily, but merely insisting you take a group of Ravens with you just in case you were in need of aid.

…

Traveling back from the Iron Hills you left and traveled farther through another path than the Durins in their return to the Blue Mountains to ready for battle as they all bore the extra weight of their dearest protector being sent off alone. Within a matter of weeks they were back and rested before claiming the first steps towards battle at your confirmation letter to begin at securing entrance to the keep. Each day bringing them closer to both a dreaded and long awaited moment of being in the shadows of their former Kingdom.

.

Alone on your path your mind reeled at the memories racing through your mind at the recitations your Grandfather had poured into you in the off chance you should claim the tasks of shifting your talents to those lands as well if reclaimed. Through the green lands you followed the path your feet guided you on trailing the whispers of the trees ushering you deeper into the woods. Deeper and deeper you could hear the soft rustling of leaves as the self assured Elven guards imagined themselves to be silent to you until you paused in a small clearing as you sensed a clear distinction of borders nearing the outer borders edge where you would surely be questioned. This was impossibly foolish, but eventually it needed to be done, so why not handle it yourself now. Just one small step and chance for trust to grow.

Inhaling slowly you glanced up at a tall tree before you staring directly at a thick branch as a panicking brunette dropped to his stomach to avoid your view only to have his braid slide into your sight and slowly retract earning a giggle from you. In as fluid Quenya as you could manage you called out,  _“I have a message for your Lord.”_

Shifting your gaze you eyed a Blonde step out from behind a tree and eye you carefully before replying in Silvan,  _“Most do not speak that tongue on our borders.”_

You nodded and replied in Silvan,  _“I was uncertain which Elven lands still did.”_

Nearing you he noted your short stature and stated,  _“We speak it, just closer to the center circle near our Lord and Lady little Elleth.”_

Dropping your shoulder your bag swung forward allowing you to pull out your intricately folded note you passed to the guard who eyed it curiously at the lacking of a seal.  _“It, is an, unofficial, message from the Dwarf Council.”_  His brows rose as he locked his eyes on yours again,  _“What I mean is, a great number of Dwarves will be marching past your borders soon. I wished to alert you to this and ensure none will turn against you or your kin.”_

_ “And just how did you become privy to this knowledge, and more precisely, why should we take your word for it. We have not dealt with Dwarves since the Dark Days.” _

With a smirk you replied,  _“They are marching to clear out a nest of Goblins and Orcs. I am joining them, on my prior trek to sit with them we extended our path past your lands an absurd three miles to avoid them. I am certain your kin is just as likely or willing to begin yet another futile war between our races when it is easily avoided by a simple warning of good faith. We hold our paths and your kin go about your immortal lives.”_

_ “We? You speak as if you’re one of them?” _

_ “I’m Half Hobbit Half Dwarf. I’ve served under King Thror my since my early childhood.” _  At his inching scowl forming at the news of your heritage you bowed your head and turned,  _“You have my word Master Elf. I have taken up much of your time, May your lands remain evergreen and peaceful.”_  Your farewell as you walked away caused his lips to part in shock, narrowing his eyes he watched you step out of their outer rings and back out towards the edge of the forest. Wordlessly he turned and carried your message straight to the Royal circle where he waited for Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel to call him forward sharing his message.

Through a focused glare Celeborn’s eyes read and reread your simple message and wish of good faith between the passing troops and their ancient lands before lifting his eyes to Haldir who inhaled slowly as his Lord asked,  _“And that was all that was said?”_

Haldir nodded his head,  _“Yes My Lord. Nothing more.”_

Turning his eyes Celeborn looked to Galadriel as she eyed the March Warden before a vision played in her mind and she said,  _“This child born of stone and earth will face shadow and flame to reach her light. Her word is but an echo of Namo’s guiding promise upon her birth.”_ Her eyes met her Husband’s,  _“The Dwarves will not harm us, she has voiced it and has sworn herself to their home. Born a servant, yes, but not to her King.”_

Celeborn,  _“We will trust her word. None will strike at the Dwarves unless in defense. Remain unseen, hold your patrols. When their march is over perhaps I could meet with this young Hobbit Haffling myself.”_  Haldir bowed his head and returned to the outer rings to return to his patrols with his Brothers.


	4. Chapter 4

Above you the great Mountains loomed. Along the path long since unused you trekked alone with a single caution from King Thror replaying in your mind.  **“The mines are deep. In all the centuries there must be some armor and weapons left yet.”**  Firmly he placed a sturdy dagger in its thick sheath gifted to him from his Father upon your parting along the path into your hand,  **“We haven’t the chance or supplies to arm you fully as we should. Search where you can, take what you can. Arm yourself no matter the material.”**

**“Your-.”**

Firmly his hands circled yours again with a loving yet firm pleading glint in his eyes,  **“I swore to your Grandfather I would protect you should anything happen to him. Pay no mind to the value of what you take,”** His hand squeezed yours a bit firmer,  **“You are worth far more than any vein of Mithril in those mines.”**  Your lips parted through your teary gaze matching his,  **“That’s an order my Dear.”** With your nod you turned and followed the path as they followed another taking them home to regroup and return, all stealing glances at their seemingly unarmed kin venturing off into this death mission alone.

Alone through the cavernous pathway you traveled along the edges keeping watch of any scouts or patrols until you had reached a noted carving in the side of a large boulder usually missed if not looked at in the proper angle. Turning East you mentally counted the paces while your hand drew out a small key ring, one of three entrusted to you when fleeing Erebor, on the ring you found the largest of the keys blindly. The one with a large diamond image on one end with another smaller one on the other end with a small square secured sideways to it, all coated in Ancient Dwarvish Runes. With that key in hand you followed the memorized paces until you found a hidden entrance overlooking Lothlorien. Inhaling slowly you slid the key in the hole your finger found in its masked state, thankfully it did not click or make a single sound allowing you to enter quietly.

Through your exhale you eyed the five Ravens leaving their Brother behind in their path to join you inside to alert the others when you had opened another entrance. Across your shoulders they landed and held their silence eyeing the long deep darkened halls before you. For nearly a mile you trailed along the edges of a large corridor that ended feeding into a great hall leading to a row of scattered bridges crossing to another long stretch of halls. On your right you stopped at a crumbled statue of what used to be a great bear, on your shoulders the Raven tilted their heads curiously then flinched at your hand sinking into a small groove and pushing in a hidden door.

In that cobweb dust strewn path you followed through a labyrinth of winding turns leaving the Ravens befuddled at any sense to your desired location at all until you quietly scooped a handful of webbing from a hidden door widening their eyes as you eased it open revealing a giant hall packed with piles of weapons, armor and various jeweled and metal forged stolen treasures hoarded there. After a scan over the seemingly endless hoard and silence in the miles surrounding you due to the flecks of sunlight pouring in through random cutouts in the ceiling you exited your hiding place, sealing it behind you before venturing between the large piles. 

Unknown to the Dwarves lucked in the back of your vest were 6 swords, two straight down, long swords and four curved smaller blades to be drawn out behind your shoulders and hips, all paired with the two long swords in your tall boots. On your right hip your gifted dagger now rested, strapped on tightly, soon to be added by another for each boot at its lack of securing straps and another pair coming with a pair of small arm braces you had found for a small Elf in its early training years. Nearing the more Elven piles you eyed all the armor, still to large for you until you halted at a small chest you recognized from a sketch in your Grandfather’s Brother’s journals, chests marked to transfer mithril armor for the young noble Elves for their training.

With your key ring drawn you found the small key he would have unlocked it with to unlock the damaged chest and lock long since abandoned at no success in breaking inside and found a full neck down suit of mithril. After you closed your eyes for a moment you inhaled sharply and tucked it in your arms and made your way through the hoard collecting a bow and a pair of quivers to match it before sealing yet another hidden door behind you. Shakily you exhaled in the dark slowly stripping after setting the Ravens on a small indent you they smiled up at you after your wiping it off for them. 

Layer by layer they eyed your hidden treasures and watched you slide on the cold mithril shirt and pants you secured in place with the built in belt covering your under shorts and vest that dropped past your ankles hitting the floor covering all but the toes on your nearly worn through socks. Wetting your lips you added you pants and boots first, securing your weapons back into place before adding your long sleeve shirt you secured with your vest. Over that you added your arm braces and jacket then you shouldered your bag, bow and quivers again and shifted to allow the birds to climb on your shoulders again.

Two more days you traveled through the hidden halls, crossing openly when you had to until you got to the next doorway. With eager inhales the Ravens sat gripping your shoulders tightly as you gripped the edge of a boar’s head in a large wall of carvings depicting the great creatures once dwelling in those lands. Through the hidden opening you pulled on a metal handle, then the following three inside more hidden holes. Anxiously you eyed the halls the Ravens were watching behind you at the final creaking lock inching open before a low groan coming from the hidden door that opened to reveal a row of armed Dwarves all aiming spears and swords from between their shield wall that lowered at the sight of you.

With a relieved chuckle their Clan Lord stepped forward giving the go ahead to one of the Ravens to fly ahead to the next group traveling to the next door alerting them of your successful second step of your plan. With a tilt of your head you guided the forces inside filing them into the vast hall and rooms you had already scouted and sealed for them. As quietly as they could manage they filled the halls forming their camps before closing the door once again. At your side their leader drew out their copy of your floor plans to copy your notes of all weak spots you had found they should look out for before you slipped from their sights onto your path to the next door.

.

The next two went easily, soon filling another corner of the keep with more forces that nearly jumped up when they met in the vast halls you had chosen for them, even at your warning. But quietly they waited as you made your way to the next stop, with one Raven left you set your bag aside and walked to the base of a giant battered statue of Durin and slowly made your way to the top, catching glimpses of the Ironfists peering up at you curiously. Your pause at the base of his beard brought on a wave of fear from them until they spotted your next foot hold after quietly warning the former Dwarf Lord of your need to touch his beard. Thirty feet higher you climbed spotting another group of Dwarves in the distance, the Broadbeams pointing you out to their leader who arrived just in time to see your hand go inside a hidden cutout and collect a key you slid inside your boot before climbing down again watching their relieved exhales before slipping back into the shadows again.

Once on the ground you grabbed your belongings and followed the path across a narrow bridge towards the final door. Through the creeping moonlight Thorin’s voice called out in a sharp whisper,  **“Adad!”**

Turning his head Thror followed his Grandson’s gaze towards the etching of a hidden door growing before them they all lined up before as it creaked open just barely enough to allow the Raven through. Sharply the Raven called out,  **“The halls are clear!”** Through the doors they heard an exhausted gasping breath signaling Frerin, Thorin and Dwalin to race forward to give the door a firm push aiding you in its opening. When it was open you stood inhaling slowly as you straightened again flashing a weak chuckle at the Brothers curling you in a tight hug their Cousin joined in on between soft praise and thanks to Mahal you were safe. Turning your head at the approach of heavy boots you bowed your head to Thror who tugged you into a tight hug of his own mumbling into your shoulder,  **“Mahal’s Beard! You’re safe!”**  When he drew back he eyed you up and down before folding back the collar of your shirt where he smiled at your hidden layer before he cupped your cheek with a teary gaze,  **“Perfect choice. Nice and quiet.”**

You nodded as he lowered his hand and signaled for his men to ready before your head turned to find an Elven banner flashing through the trees. Turning his head Thror narrowed his eyes focusing on the emblem on the banner and mumbled something under his breath as Thorin inched closer asking,  **“Grandfather?”**

Tilting your head you spotted a small blue jay flying towards you then landed on your hand when you raised it, in soft Quenya it stated,  _“My Lord informed me to say a small troop of healers will be waiting in the edge of the woods and another troop of Elves have volunteered to aid in slaying those exiting the front gate.”_

You nodded your head replying,  _“Please thank your Lord, we are most grateful for his kin’s aid.”_

He nodded his head smiling at you softly,  _“Of course Little Elleth.”_  Rapidly he turned and fluttered off again leaving the stunned Dwarves to stare at you.

Wetting your lips you looked to Thrain who asked,  **“Do they mean us harm?”**

You shook your head,  **“No.”**  You shifted your eyes to Thror,  **“Before, when we split, I stopped on the edges of Lothlorien,”**  he nodded his head trying to imagined what bargain they must have forced you into,  **“I warned their Lord of our kin passing their borders. No bargains were struck, no trades or promises past two forces honoring each other’s borders.”**

A smile inched on Thror’s face as he chuckled softly,  **“Rightly so my Dear. No doubt if we are to be neighbors after this it would do to have some means of trust between us.”**  After a glance at his relaxing men he looked to you again asking,  **“Their troops just there?”**

**“Lord Celeborn has sent a troop of healers, and another group of Elves have volunteered to join us at the front gate.”**

To which Thorin and Frerin chuckled mumbling,  **“Nain will love that.”**

Turning from them you led them inside, being the smallest group they barely filled the hall you had chosen for them before you slipped out with the young trio behind you ready to help with the front gate as your last raven sped off to warn the Dwarves at the gate of your success and your aid as the Elves joined the end of the line to set up in one of your secured halls. In hushed breaths the trio followed you through a winding set of halls and hidden pathways until you peaked out, feeling their weight adding to your back as they joined you before you exited and led them across a bare bridge and into a massive pillar filled hall which you followed to the end bringing the gate into view.

Softly under your breath you counted out the steps and tapped along the bricks above a simple etching easily mistaken as a scrape narrowing the trio’s eyes curiously while you raised your boot, reached inside to draw out a large key widening their eyes as it sunk inside a hidden keyhole and unlocked a ripple of enchanted gears and bars to reveal as half of the etchings sank into the door. Now fully revealed you guided the men on which bars to pull revealing the second keyhole your same key unlocked before you four pushed on heavily revealing the shield wall and hundreds of Elven archers notching their bows on the other side.

At the sight of you the Elves lowered their bows as the same blonde march warden leading them bowed his head to you as the fiery haired Dwarf Lord approached you. After a hushed conversation you led them towards their halls as the Elves joined you in the path filling in a row of hidden overlooks sealed of in the Dwarves’ flight from these halls coated with near a foot of dust in its forgotten state allowing their kin a safe location to both aid and defend themselves in. back through the halls you led the Durins and spotted the flock of Ravens checking with each Dwarf Company before the long awaited question was whispered behind you,  **“Well, how does it start?”**

Without a word you gripped your borrowed bow and collected an arrow spotting the Elves all turning their heads to watch you notch it in your right hand, draw it back at let it fly towards a metal bucket attached to a chain resting on the edge of a long since dried up well. Loudly it crashed into the edges and flipped the bucket sending it loudly to sink and crash through the well drawing flinches from all the Dwarves around you. Shield walls were formed once again as the Elves notched their bows at the first distant echo of screeches and cries before crashing boots and scurrying were heard.

…

Through arrows and focused walls of Dwarves the orcs fell along with the goblins among them. All being pushed aside to form large barricades to shield the resting Dwarves and Elves, now on the lower levels among you at the depletion of their arrows, which quivers full of them were being tossed by you from your trip to the treasure hoard drawing smirks from them as they regained their airborn advantage and hiding places. Between the forces you wove sneaking your way to where you were most useful, spreading more weapons and guiding the few injured through paths to the new healing wing. Your latest trip however brought your eyes straight to a pale orc charging for your King’s back.

In a frenzied race you reached him just moments before his mace would have crashed into his back, splayed across the floor from your shove Thror watched your body fly through the air into a pillar drawing a shout from him at the large mace crashing into your chest caving in the Elven chest piece Thorin urged you to put on when aiding with one of your scavenging trips. Around you Elves notched their bows as Thorin stabbed through Azog’s back before being knocked down by a backhanded swing from the large mace. On his feet again Thror stood between the orc and his Grandson, drawing in a breath he raised his sword knowing he could not block the next blow as yet another distant loud thumping was heard as flames grew in the distant end of the hall. 

With wide eyes Thror watched the mace fall from Azog’s hand as a sword sliced through his wrist nearly cutting it off, loudly it clattered as he let out a roar, turning their heads to find you panting and trembling as you rose to your feet and charged at him with the sword’s twin in your hand. In a rapid motion he drew your sword from his wrist and drove it just a few inches into Thror’s chest before Thorin rose to slice off his other hand while your sword crashed through his neck claiming his head as his body flopped down loudly at your less than graceful crash into his side gaining an audible crack from your foot heard by all Elves watching.

In a sharp inhale you eyed Thror when you turned being gripped in his Grandsons’ arms muttering he was fine as he held your sword in place through your directions to the healing tent. A loud roar caused your head to turn to the large balrog now entering the hall freezing the Dwarves and few orcs remaining. Narrowing your eyes through a sharp exhale you turned and sped off hearing the Durins shouting your name while they carried their injured King towards the healers.

What turns you took blurred before you until you were seen mid air after a clean leap from a balcony. Around you gasps were heard as your long stretch of chain whipped around the horn of the balrog granting you a clear swing around him, once in front of him and over his shoulder before the chain tightened and whipped you back to his front as he staggered backwards at the force of your weight jerking his head around. In a clumsy slip of his hoof he was sent onto his back drawing cheers from the Dwarves around you, but in your landing another gasp and crack was heard from you. 

Your now certainly broken foot was joined by your formerly fractured, now broken arm brought the room to a tilt as you caught yourself. The force of your landing caused your vision to blur from the radiating pain now coursing through you that sent your sword from your grip to clatter towards the ground, but a single glint of a blood red metal brought the ax Nain tossed your way into your main focus. In one last conscious action you rose, using your lingering momentum to shift the ax above your head and send it crashing down ending the life of the balrog.

Through the cheers and waves of noise your body dropped and you slid from the balrog into the waiting arms of an Elf aiming to aid you at the sound of your injuries preceding the spurt of blood now soaking up your sleeve from your broken arm. Darkness and silence crashed around you in the jostling path taking you towards the Durins’ muffled voices still calling your name, mainly Thror who’d been turned just in time to catch your victorious action yet not soon enough to miss your body slumping lifelessly to the corpse below you.

..

Victory was called for, the King had survived a sword to the chest, and yet no songs were to be heard. Silence lingered between ripples of tales of your travels through the keep from the Ravens while the Elves circled around you constantly at Thror’s clear attention to you. At Haldir’s recollection you had named yourself his servant, and yet the tears on his face and constant place at your side brought out an all together different tale. None, no Dwarf Lord or King would dare tear him from you, not at his soft pleas to Mahal to guide you through your unending sleep.

By Raven retelling barely a few hours sleep was all you could manage through your travels, and even though it seemed far worse than it was your broken foot, ribs and arm were mostly healed within the first two days at the Elves’ attention. One by one they each took their turn, including Lord Celeborn, who had arrived the night before. In a cool clear voice he spoke in the Common tongue, “I wish to speak with the Young Hobbit Haffling.” A teary gaze from an Ironfoot guard was the only response he got past a hand wave guiding him to you and the tear stained King carefully braiding back your recently washed and dried hair. Looking you over the Elf Lord crouched at your side and slowly moved his hand above your face and chest before locking eyes with King Thror to say, “Irmo is guiding her through to Yavanna’s gardens.” Thror’s lips parted, “Aule wishes to speak with her. Namo will not claim her yet. Her path has long to go yet. Do not fret, she will wake when she is released from council.”

King Thror nodded and motioned for Thorin and Frerin to take his place as he stood to greet the Elf Lord and share more about you and your travels with him while Raven flew back to every Dwarf Kingdom and keep sharing the news of the victory.

.

Nearly a week you slept until a brushing of a braid along your nose followed by chuckles came from Frerin at the scrunching of your nose. His laugh caused his Grandfather to turn and call out, “Frerin…” Once again your nose shifted before your brows furrowed stirring a deep breath from you drawing all the Durins back to your side as your eyes squinted open through a call for a meal for you as Thror sat at your side cupping your hand again with a growing smile.

As you flattened out on your back you asked,  **“You haven’t seen any squirrels yet, have you**?”

He shook his head with a loving smile,  **“No my Dearest Ukrad.”**  You watched another tear roll down his cheek,  **“What are the squirrels to us?”**

With a weak chuckle you rubbed your face with both hands before pulling them back to eye the metal cast secured on your left one simply as a brace until the muscles and bruising had healed fully as well.  **“They um.”** You lowered your arms to your sore chest,  **“I had a dream they kept trying to hide acorns in my hair. Then these geese starting attacking Thorin.”** To which he chuckled softly and helped prop you up against Thorin’s side as he sat behind you in leu of pillows yet to arrive as a cup of water was being brought for you.

Behind you the Prince chuckled as he asked,  **“And what was my fate?”**

**“You hid inside a tree, they knocked you off a cliff kept shouting about your Oaken shield.”**

Your eyes sank through their chuckles to the bandage visible across Thror’s chest wrapped tightly causing him to say,  **“Your Elf allies healed me. Says I’ve time yet in these old bones.”**  Shifting closer to you he lowered the cup after your sip allowing Balin to fill it again,  **“You should know, the mountain is sealed again. Word has been spread to our allies, My Precious Ibine and our Daughter and Granddaughter should be along within a few days.”**  After the cup was lowered again he stroked your cheek,  **“There is so much I wished to say to you my Dear Ukrad. You’ve never once been simply a messenger to me.”**  

As a tear slid down your cheek he continued,  **“So much I’ve wanted nothing more than to call you my Grandchild. Please know in the halls of our Fathers your table will be joined with mine.”**  His thumb wiped away another of your tears,  **“You have the heart of a King you know, to protect and love so freely for those with their backs to you, from one King to another. From me and all my kin, we owe you more than possible to transfer, my hope is that you feel at home among us and are not feeling bound by former positions to remain among us.”**  His smile inched wider hopefully,  **“When Mahal calls for me, whenever that day may be, I pray you remain among them, for all our strengths we have great need of your keen eyes Dear child.”**

He wiped away another of your tears as you nodded, whispering,  **“Of course.”**

 **“Because of you, my Ibine, my Queen is heading back to our Father’s halls, back to my arms again, same as a great number of our clan.”**  His hands circled yours,  **“And, please humor an old King when I say, for all your faithful service and fealty, I do look forward to delivering such a weighty message from you.”**  Your eyes filled with tears again as his voice trembled,  **“There is so much I have to share with your Grandparents and your Amad. They are so proud of you, and will be even more so, I can feel it. Our precious Ukrad. They’re all watching. We all saw you fly, bring down that flaming beast.”**

In the doorway a Dwarf signaled to the King that their cheers had alerted the Elf Lord to your waking and he was on his way, turning your head you were inched up a bit higher, bringing the baggy Elven shirt and pants covering you to your attention before you spotted Gloin along the wall patching a tear in your outer vest as Oin mended your shirt. Through the doorway you watched the Elf Lord enter the room beside Haldir who both smiled softly at you on their approach to your side. In a tired sigh Thror settled into the chair he was offered as Celeborn crouched at your side locking his eyes with yours before he said, “Miss Pear. I’ve heard a great deal of you this past week. I owe you my gratitude for your aiding and protecting my archers.”

“They hopefully would have done the same for me.”

A hint of a smile twitched up onto his face, “I wish that were true for all my kin. Some of us are not that kind.”

With a weak chuckle you replied, “Now that you can blame my Mother for.” His brow rose matching the Dwarves around him, “I don’t remember much of her, but one thing echoing in my mind is her voice saying, if you are meant to be nothing else, be kind.” His brow lowered leaving his still slightly puzzled expression through your next weak chuckle, “Of course what none remember is there’s many forms of kindness. One which even kills. Doesn’t sound helpful at first, but it stuck with me. I know my letter must have stunned you to say the least. But it was all I had believed to be right at the moment.”

He nodded shallowly then eyed your face again wondering just what else you were destined to do, “A decision I agree with fully. Your numbers were quite startling, we’ve not seen an army of this size pass us peacefully, well, I don’t believe it’s happened before. After your notice my kin were, touched, to say the least at your warning and wished to aid you.”

“Thank you, for allowing that. You saved our King.”

His smile inched wider in a near adoring smile, “And you. I was wondering, if you can recall, what did you dream about?”

Through your explanation a bowl of stew was placed in Thorin’s hands on your lap allowing you use of your good hand to feed yourself through the repetition of your confusing dream to the Elf Lord before he shared his ideas for possible trade plans and aid in re-sprouting the long abandoned greenhouse.

…

Slowly you were up on your feet again guiding the Dwarves back through knowing their former home, sharing what secrets you could without spreading all the supposed secret locations and treasures to all the citizens returning. Your one last request of your feathered guards was to return the key into the statue of Durin due to your inability to climb just yet, an act achieved just an hour before the Durin women had arrived. Within moments of their fawning over the King was through and they had heard what you’d done they were curled around you in tearful hugs thanking you for saving Thror and Thorin. Not long after Dwarves were returning to aid in the rebuild while you readied to travel again.

Thror in his slowly healing state decided to travel with you, leaving Frerin in his place at Thorin’s unwillingness to leave you. Word of your departure loomed over the kingdom, bringing only a joy that you would be keeping an ear out for them, but your actions so far had placed them on a good path to flourishing again. But no matter their argument you always replied the same, there was a group of orphans still entrusted to your guardianship you had to provide for in the Shire. A noble reason to return, one that kept the families closest to the children in the Blue Mountains along with the elder Prince clearly intent on one day making his Grandfather’s wish of claiming you as his kin true.

Within months Moria had found its feet again and a timid relationship with the Elves on their borders as you settled watching the remaining Dwarves in the Blue Mountains flourishing as they took over the jobs of those that had left. But as the year anniversary to the great battle had come you were seated along the wall outside the King’s bed chambers in Moria with warm trails of tears streaming down your cheeks from under your eyelids that were clamped shut at the clear sounding of the Queen’s wails. For all their efforts the Elves could not change his fate, but happily in his Queen’s arms the King passed surrounded by his kin after sharing once again that he would gladly share his tales of your life with your relatives.

Lazy footfalls opened your eyes to the tear stained now Crown Prince Thorin who dropped to his knees on your right and clenched his eyes through a flood of tears as his head landed on your lap while his arms circled your back. With parted lips your eyed the Prince nestling tighter against you, soon joined by his Brother who sprawled across his shoulder and side on your left also gripping you tightly. Gently your arms lowered to their sides as Balin and Dwalin were soon among them through your growing wave of pain at the loss causing you to fold over the brothers while their Cousins circled you tightly completing your giant weeping pile as the Queen shouted to be alone as her Daughter and Dis curled around her on the bare side of the bed.

.

By sunrise you stirred to a ripple of whispers signaling your eyes open and the Princes around you to unfold from their position as your blankets and pillows. Grunts and delirious growls came from Balin and Dwalin while the Brothers on your lap tried to curl around you tighter refusing to let go and wake up just yet. As you spotted the crown in King Nain’s hands your hand settled on Thorin’s shoulder giving him a gentle shake.

In a growl Thorin replied,  **“Mahal’s sake, leave me be!”**

Softly you shook him again as Frerin stirred with a growl at Dwalin’s nudge as you said, “Thorin.” Your voice, like striking a match opened his still blood shot eyes causing him to tilt his head to meet your gaze. But your head nod brought a confused expression to his face through his rise to his knees beside you at Frerin repeating his name. In a stunned glance at his Uncle Thorin’s hands rose instinctually to accept the crown as the Dwarves before him bowed to him calling out,  **“Long Live the King!”**

With furrowed brows Thorin glanced at your still partially asleep group as the doors behind you opened revealing Dis and her Mother Diaa beside Queen Niro who asked,  **“Where is Thrain?!”**

Turning to face her Nain replied,  **“We found the crown on the throne and there is no trace of him. Our guards mentioned seeing him gathering a satchel of food earlier mumbling about Erebor. He has abandoned us.”**

With a disbelieving tearful exhale Niro glanced at her Grandson then turned back inside whispering to herself,  **“Hasn’t that beast taken enough from us?”**

Through a teary smile Diaa walked to Thorin’s side kissing his forehead whispering, **“I am so sorry. You should have centuries yet before this weight.”** He nodded his head to her allowing her back inside to get some more rest before he met Dis’ tear filled eyes, without even a nod from her he nodded, granting her a return as well.

After he turned to face his Uncle while another tear rolled down his cheek and asked in a broken tone,  **“I hate to ask, is there any word on a breakfast?”**

King Nain nodded his head,  **“It’s just begun preparation. Nice and hearty, as per tradition.”**

Thorin inhaled then met his eyes after a glance at his Uncle’s boots, **“I think I’ll try to rest some more until then.”**

Nain bowed his head,  **“We will alert you at breakfast and if Prince Thrain is located by our Ravens.”**

Thorin bowed his head in return then shifted back on his knees and blankly sank back onto your lap gripping you tightly with the crown resting at your side before Frerin, Balin and Dwalin rested around you again while you sat up stroking the new King’s back trying to think of what this could mean for you.

.

Before you coating the thick table a meal was placed as Thorin glumly eyed the passing feast’s first course throughout the day just a few hours before Thror was to be properly eulogized and cremated, just barely an hour before Thorin’s proper coronation. A few seats down from Thorin you caught his softening heartbroken expression when he looked up at you on your approach to the meal he had welcomed you to. With a bow of your head to him he nodded in return granting you permission to sit and listened as you said,  **“I’ve written to Lothlorien, Rivendell and even out to Greenwood asking for any news on Prince Thrain, Your Majesty.”**

Without knowing why he flatly replied,  **“You just can’t seem to get a day off with our kin, do you?”**

Curiously his brow ticked up at your sharp exhale as you bit your lip, peering down at your lap. Within moments their eyes were on you through your bubbling laughter soon drawing them all with you in a wave of relief that swept through you all, though for just a moment. It all slipped away as you all remembered the predicaments you had all been placed in, though painful they all did have a hint of  ridiculous to it all at their constant apparent need for rescuing. For just a few minutes you laughed and cried at the mingled grief, wiping your tears through the missed dazed glances from Thorin, in awe of your bright smile the other Durins all felt a deep sting at not having drawn more form you through the years, realizing just how unhappy their nonsense could have left you through it all.

Not far from his side you stood and caught more than a few glances your way in his silent plea for just a sign that you were still there close by, a gesture shared by all the Dwarves curious to see if he had your undying loyalty as well. But as the week had ended you were joining the Royal caravan on the path back to the Blue Mountains, leaving Frerin as Lord in charge of Moria once again as Thorin returned to those still loyal to remaining among their Hobbit allies and jobs in the West.

At your side Thorin rumbled,  **“Thank you, for supporting me.”**

You glanced up at him with a curious smile,  **“If not me who else is to make sure geese don’t go knocking you off a cliff Your Majesty?”** Drawing a weak chuckle from him.

**“True. Not many are up for that task.”**

**“Besides, you could get lost in your closet with both hands and a map.”**  Making him laugh again.

… Thirty Years Later …

In a near mocking tone of yourself you mumbled,  **“I’ll take the East…”** After a glance through the raging storm around you your hand settled on the rock wall on your right as you were swung around on the knee of a Stone Giant, normally any Dwarf would be thrilled to be privy to the sight of a Thunder Battle but being as this seemed to be your predicament each time you crossed these lands you scowled through the expected crash before you hopped free of your perch onto a nearby ledge and walked into the first cave you saw. 

Curiously you eyed it uncertain of ever being in this one before as you mumbled,  **“Next time,”** you sighed and turned to examine the other side of the cave,  **“Who am I kidding. Thorin would plummet to his-.”** A sharp gasp left you as the ground fell out from under you, knocking and slamming down the path you managed to catch onto a boulder along the wall, most assuredly breaking a rib at the familiar throbbing pain. In a pained grunt you swung onto the small ledge and followed the small tunnel wherever it winded until you had fallen once again into a pile of smooth stones on the edge of a lake.

With a groan you rose to your knees and shook your head as the creature growling and panting between mutters of “Precious” circled you. The shifting of a stone behind you brought your sword out in a quick spinning swing claiming his head. A single glint of gold in the mud beside his headless body stirred a memory from that same muddled dream in Moria, carefully you tucked it away and let your feet carry you to wherever the echoing trees guided you. With a sigh you followed the path and mumbled to yourself,  **“First Thrain seen sprinting through the edge of Laketown Lake, now off to destroy a cursed trinket…”**  Your mind switched back to Gandalf’s letter you had received requesting you meet him in Bree in a few weeks time.  **“Fingers crossed he pulls one of his ‘Wizard’s never late’ bits. Shouldn’t take too long.”**

.

Along the edge of the Grey Mountains you traveled, passing through a few hidden paths in Moria, stopping for a refill on supplies before slipping out again on the edge of Rohan’s borders. Under the cover of night you traveled, crossing their borders and continuing towards Gondor’s. Luckily enough you were able to slip past their guards unnoticed following along the mountain path where you followed a clear path up the side of the mountain, through a curiously winding path until reaching an archway lined with skulls. 

Narrowing your eyes you entered and peered around following the obvious paths until a floating green body crossed your path. Glancing around your eyes flinched wider through their mournful song, as the body passed you to join the other thousands in their glowing green ghostly city managed to slip past them and followed the path out for nearly a full week before you came across a small crack in the far tip of the mountain ridge. Biting your lip you squirmed free unaware of the green army tracking your steps curious about their nearly unnoticed visitor.

Cautiously you eyed the peaks surrounding Gondor and snuck around its Southern edge through the shadows until you found the end of the slowly lowering ridge you climbed down until you were in between the peaks housing Gondor and Minas Morgul in the growing night. With eyes narrowed you eyed the plume of smoke signaling Mt Doom’s location but your eyes shifted farther south spotting a spreading plume drawing you after it. Following the smoke you finally came across the burning remnants of a village still filled with flowing lava, with a shrug you collected the ring from your boot and reached down to the tattered hem of your shirt and collected a rock from the dirt at your feet. 

Snuggly you tied them together and chuckled it as hard as you could then watched it sink into the lava before a giant pulse shot out from Mordor. In a turning staggering fall you landed on your backside with a stunned gasp as a row of green soldiers stepped between you and the mountain blocking all debris from crashing into you while another turned and lifted you up in his arms when the earth cracked out from under you.

Frozen in shock you remained still in the hopes that he would not drop you. So quietly they turned and marched back towards the mountain ridge you had just exited and carried you back up the side of it around the edge of it to the crack you had exited. Carefully you were set down again and guided back through the crack and winding tunnels as their King, the one who had carried you spoke in a raspy echoing voice. “You are the first in centuries to pass our borders. We dead do not suffer the living to pass. What creature set you on our path little Elleth?”

You glanced up at him curiously, “No one.” If he still had a brow to raise it would have risen at your curious answer. “I found the ring and I followed the path my feet led me on.”

“Your feet?”

You nodded, “I’ve always had a knack for finding the simplest paths. I apologize for crossing your borders unannounced, but I was unaware of any creatures dwelling here.” He glanced at you again, “This is the first time I’ve passed farther than Rohan’s edges.”

“Understandable.” He eyed you again, “You should sleep. We will keep watch tonight and guide you back to Rohan’s borders in the morning.”

“Thank you.”

Back at their kingdom you spied a small cot they had set up for you along the wall of the small ridge with a small bundle of food you weren’t certain of where they had taken it from, but the grumble in your stomach begged you not to care as you sat on the cot, across from the cross legged King and his Men asking more about your life and lands where you hailed from. After your meal they returned to their city and began their singing again allowing you rest through the night until a distant bird sounded at the sunrise. 

The bird’s song drew a twitch form your ear nearly bringing an adoring smirk to the King’s face on his path to wake you. His ghostly feet halted at the edge of your cot through your rise and pop releasing stretches while a pair of his Men lifted your belongings and passed them to you along with a wrapped bundle of bread and food to eat along the way.

At the edge of their borders they halted and drew your gaze to them as they smiled at you as softly as their ghostly forms could allow as their King said, “Miss Pear we will be keeping an ear out for you. Should you ever need us, we will be there.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” After a trading of bowed heads you turned to follow your path up towards the edge of the Grey Mountains. On the very edge of the first peak your head turned at the rustling of a figure racing through the forest in the distance, a flashing glimpse of a familiar tattooed forehead sent you racing after him. Within minutes you managed to cut him off and gripped him by the ear as he shouted,  **“Leave me be! I’ve a Mountain to recover!”**

Rolling your eyes you gripped his chin forcing him to lock eyes with you gaining a gasp from him as he recognized you,  **“Prince Thrain! You are coming with me to Moria!”**

**“But-.”**

Your eyes narrowed through a fiery gaze,  **“But nothing! There is a bounty on the entire Durin line,”**  His lips parted to speak only to clamp shut at your finger raising,  **“Thirty years We’ve been tracking your whereabouts, Thirty years you’ve missed from your Children and Grandchildren’s lives! You are going back to Moria if I have to drag you by your beard.”**

**“But, Erebor…”**

**“We will discus Erebor in Moria.”**

His eyes scanned over your face with a soft gasp realizing you had intentions to march towards it anyway gained an agreeing nod from him to join you on the path towards Moria again. Stealing glances at the Elves through the edges of Lothlorien noting your presence and exit from their borders before racing to pass word onto the Elf Lord trying to uncover the source of the diminishing darkness he and his kin felt creeping towards their borders. By nightfall a key from your hidden stash was brought out to guide the Prince through one of the back halls towards the main hall ending in the throne room. Each hall filling with stunned gasps towards the dirt coated and withered Prince admiring the changes in the great kingdom until his eyes fell on his stunned son Fenrir.

In a glance from his Father to you the reigning Lord of Moria let out a relieved chuckle as he approached you saying,  **“Miss Pear. You are truly a wonder. Thank you, for finding Adad.”**

Your head bowed and you watched them embrace before you were led to a meal for the three of you before you rose to your feet as Frerin was to lead Thrain to be scrubbed and put safely into bed. In the absence of your presence behind them Frerin turned to catch your eyes and said,  **“You’re leaving?”**

You nodded,  **“Gandalf requested my meeting him in Bree. I’ve only a week to get there.”**

Fenrir smiled at you and approached to curl you into a loose hug,  **“Thank you again. I’ll keep him safe.”**

You smiled up at him,  **“Don’t be afraid to chain him or put a bell on him if need be.”**

Thrain caught your eye to say **, “Send word when you’re ready to march on the mountain. I wish to be with you when that dragon falls.”**

Without missing a beat you replied flatly,  **“I’ve been searching the East for three decades now. If I hear you’ve left this keep before Smaug falls without King Thorin’s blessing I will cut you down myself. The next time I hunt you, you will fall, remember that Prince Thrain.”**

Your eyes shifted to Frerin and his soft smile,  **“Pass by the kitchens, they will refill your supplies. Safe travels Miss Pear.”** With a bow of your head you followed his order on your path through the kingdom, thankfully avoiding the Stone Giants for this pass on your path straight for Rivendell’s borders. 

.

Under the cover of a great tree you eased down onto your back using your pack as a pillow, closing your eyes and slipping into a deep sleep unaware of the Elves patrolling their borders all eying the softly glowing under the bright moonlight. All night they kept watch over you until you woke at daybreak to a strand of gold hair sweeping across your nose, that gentle brush shot your eyes wide open sending the reborn Elf Lord formerly peering over you to fall backwards onto the grass behind him. In a pained roll you rested on your stomach propping up on your elbows eyeing him carefully to ask in Quenya,  _“Have I passed too closely to Rivendell’s borders?”_

Inhaling slowly he straightened, curling his legs in front of him,  _“No Little Elleth. Are you traveling alone? We found no trace of a traveling party nearby.”_

With a soft chuckle you rose to your knees allowing him a glimpse of your clearly matured figure as you removed and shook the dew off of your jacket,  _“I almost always travel alone.”_

He eyed you again,  _“You look hungry. Lord Elrond is expecting you. A meal has been prepared as well.”_

Your lips parted,  _“Have I done something wrong?”_                               

He shook his head,  _“Of course not. All travelers are welcome in his lands.” As_  he inhaled he rose and offered you his hand before helping you collect your bags, bow and quiver then guided you through a winding band of shifting trees until the Elven city was growing around you.

.

With a soft smile Lord Elrond’s eyes locked with yours and tilted his head slightly remembering word from his Father in law of the Haffling that had formed trade between his lands and the reformed kingdom of Moria.  _“Miss Pear.”_ His bowed for a moment as the Elves listening in withheld their gasps at the familiar name _, “Welcome to Rivendell. We’ve a meal prepared for you.”_  His hand motioned to the side and he guided you straight to the open dining room where he sat across from you as the blonde claimed the seat between you unwilling to miss out on hearing your tales. Beside your seat you set your belongings and smiled softly at the Elleth serving you wine and your meal then turned your eyes back to Elrond as he asked,  _“You are traveling alone_?”

You nodded,  _“Yes, I almost always travel alone, My Lord.”_

His expression softened and he looked over your face,  _“I’ve heard a great deal about you. My Father in law speaks very highly of you, Miss Pear.”_

_“You Father-.”_

_“Lord Celeborn.”_

You nodded,  _“Yes, he’s been very kind to me, and the Dwarves reforming Moria.”_

_“You are traveling back to the Blue Mountains then?”_

You nodded,  _“Gandalf requested I meet him in Bree, but I got, detained, so I shall be late. But I can always catch him in the Shire after.”_

_“When are you expected there?”_

After a slow exhale you used to mentally recount your calendar,  _“Two days.”_

With a soft chuckle Elrond replied,  _“Then, Miss Pear, we shall simply have to lend you a horse to quicken your pace then.”_

_“Thank you.”_

His smile grew,  _“Of course.”_  Somewhere trough your second course his eyes locked on your again granting him yet another flashing memory of his latest set of dreams about a green army clutching what seemed to be a child on the path from the crumbling kingdom of Mordor. That child filled his sketches but as he watched the soft breeze blow your loose curls over your face he and Glorfindel on his right recognized you from the image right away.

With a pack of lembas added to your pack you were shown to the stables where a pale grey horse was passed into your care,  _“Whenever you find yourself traveling towards Moria again feel free to take rest here.”_ Carefully you were helped onto his saddle and he continued,  _“Teo will get you to Bree safely and swiftly. Safe travels Miss Pear.”_

Again you thanked him and bowed your head to him, gripping the reigns and allowed Teo to lead you to the Elven borders before you showed him the quickest path straight for the distant town. Once you’d left Elrond’s lands he had passed on word to Lothlorien of his suspicion marking you as the mysterious ring bearer they had been searching for, marking down especially your lack of mentioning it at all.

…

Safe in the center of the Shire in the home filling the largest Smial under the roots of a large tree thirteen Dwarves anxiously sat around a table while an uneasy Wizard looked between them and his chosen Burglar, trying to explain the reasoning for the quest to the skittish creature growing more uncomfortable by the minute at the near painful silence. A single loud snort outside following the halting of hoof beats brought the Dwarf King to his feet on a path to open the door he managed to reach just as it knocked with all the others grouped behind him releasing a collective breath when a familiar set of eyes glowed in the lamplight coating their chosen Key Master and Dragon Slayer.


	5. Chapter 5

On the edges of Bree the Longbeard clan camped for the night. The Dwarf Prince on your right looked you over after his latest insistence that traveling to the Shire was not the best idea, the downcast look on your face made him realize that was the wrong thing to say. For the next half hour he sat there hoping to draw you into a conversation only to be called away granting you your chance to slip out of camp unseen. In the vast stretch of darkened green plains your eyes spotted a distant road you made your way to under the freshly risen moon. 

Curiously you eyed the town ahead of you before your eyes shifted to the door opening on a large shed beside a house tucked safely in a large hill. The worn farmer from inside eyed you carefully and fidgeted with his suspenders on his trek to meet you at his front gate. Your tattered clothes stirred an inkling that you were not on the best of terms and required some righting and possibly some aid on your travels to wherever.

He drew nearer and your flash of a smile eased his nerves as he spotted the familiar shade of purple eyes noting your fallen Father’s line left to just you. In timid Hobbittish you spoke, “My apologies for arriving so late, but I was wondering if you might be able to point me towards BagEnd?”

With a nod his hand was extended, “Everybody calls me Farmer Maggot, you must be Lotto’s little girl.” You nodded trying to hold your smile, “Heard you were off with your Dwarf kin off in the East.”

You nodded, “Yes, only we’re moving to the Blue Mountains now.”

His face lit up, “Ah, your Cousin Belladonna should be grateful for your aid. Her husband Bungo’s up and trekked off to meet his new baby Brother in our old Hobbiton up North. Just her and little Bilbo now.” He wet his lips and motioned towards his right, “Simple enough, just follow this road until you pass the one with the yellow door and turn right, it’ll be the one with a green door and begonias near the front of the planters.”

With another nod you smiled, “Thank you.”

He smiled back with a pleased nod, “I hope to be seeing you again soon, at the markets perhaps.” A swift wave later he ventured back to his house as you followed the single road through the town with groups of peeking Children roaming around whispering about you giddily.

.

On a round green door a knock sounded bringing a cautious opening of the wooden barrier exposing the dark haired Hobbitess and her infant son propped on her hip. Your smile came out again as she locked her eyes on yours only to gasp recognizing the eyes of her pen pal Cousin from the distant mountains. “Jaqiearae!” The door was propped open wider and she nearly bounced out and wrapped you in a hug while Bilbo awkwardly smashed his face against yours in an attempt to kiss your cheek. When you were apart again her smile grew looking you over only to furrow her brows curiously at your worn dirt coated layers, “Did you lose your bags?” Her eyes rose to meet yours spotting the tears there looming inside causing her lips to part then twist into a soft smile, curling her hand under your arm she stated, “Here, pardon my manners, I’ll put the kettle on and we can discuss it all.”

Inside you accepted the seat on the soft arm chair and playfully bounced Bilbo on your knee drawing giggled from him while she fashioned the tea and tray of biscuits and slices of fruit and cheese for you both. In her seat after setting down the tray she smiled sweetly at you offering you your cup of tea as she asked, “How did you get here? Did you travel alone? It must be quite a distance from Erebor to here.”

You nodded and set the cup down after claiming a sip, “It is a distance. I know it’s our first time meeting face to face, and I do regret having it be on these terms,” you wet your lips and she nodded her head for you to continue, “Erebor was attacked.” Her lips parted in shock causing her to set aside her tea as well and rest her hands supportively on your knee closest to her, “There was a Dragon and we were forced to leave. We’ve been traveling for months now, and,” you wet your lips again hating to have to put her in this position, “I was wondering if there could be any way we could arrange a trade of sorts. We’ve spent our supplies and still have a week at least to the Blue Mountains, and even there it would take time to settle and work out a deal as well with those Dwarves. If we could gain supplies I give you my word when we settle we would reimburse all of you.”

With a nod of her head her curls shifted only to be drawn up into a tight bun as she stood stating, “You and I are off to visit my Uncle, Thain Ferumbras. We will get this settled. How many are there traveling with you?”

“A thousand perhaps, bit more with the orphans, they are a bit hard to round up to count.”

In front of her door she halted locking her eyes on yours to shakily repeat, “Orphans?”

You nodded and she looked to Bilbo snuggling against your chest before she nodded again, “Ferumbras will get the clans in line to help.”

..

Across from the Thain you sat accepting the second cup of tea and offer of snacks while Belladonna claimed Bilbo again cradling him after his feeding as he nodded off through the Thain stating with a calm tone after having had his after supper snack interrupted. “We cannot house the lot of you.”

You nodded, “Of course not. We are intending on passing through to the Blue Mountains. We would never expect you to house all of us, you have no reason to assist us at all, and I would understand fully if you would choose not to.”

At once the room full of Hobbits’ eyes opened wider at the notion of them not assisting those in need when they did have plenty to share. “My Dear, of course we will help you. There is no question of that.” His head turned to his brood of Children he issued orders to sending them off racing to collect all the heads of the clans, gaining the attention of all the Hobbits in the Shire at the curious late night meeting. After they had left the Thain’s Wife asked, “The orphans you mentioned, roughly how many are there?”

Wetting your lips after finishing off your tea you replied, “Forty would be my best guess.”

To which she nodded, replying, “Well we’ve plenty of families with fully grown fauntlings that have settled on their own leaving their former nests empty for more loving little ones.”

Your lips parted, “You would help to house them?”

She nodded, “Of course.”

Thain, “We would be needing financial support in that though.”

You nodded, “Of course.”

Thain, “Now, in terms of reimbursement. You mentioned a wish to return one day?”

“Yes. When we have healed and gathered in numbers.”

Thain, “Belladona has shared a bit from your letters and we were wondering about Dale, the market city outside Erebor.” You nodded as he wet his lips, “As for payment we would not expect anything now, not with all that has happened. I was thinking more of a trade. Our kin will be too many to house all of us in the Shire before long and we will be needing more room for our people to grow and to trade. We will house the orphans, grant you the supplies to get you to the Blue Mountains, along with safe passage through our borders in exchange for a number of our kin to return with yours to Erebor when you get it back.”

“You would want Dale then?”

He shook his head, “No, we would not take a stone city. No, we will build another Shire in the lands around yours, but as for Dale we would be wishing for at least a portion to begin trading with the people your kin would bring back again once safety is assured.”

You nodded, wetting your lips, “I’m certain for your aid I could convince King Thror to grant your kin half of the market space.”

A curt laugh left the Thain, “Half? Heavens no!” His lips pursed as he pondered the figures in his mind, “I would say a third would be fairer.”

An easy smile formed on your face, “That I can manage.” He smiled back and brought out a stack of parchment along with a quill and ink bottle he used to write up the simple contract you signed first and would have Thror sign as well when they passed through.

.

By midnight a large number of goods were gathered along with a set of willing couples eager to house the orphans already prepping their homes for the little ones while you led the wagons to the waiting Dwarves. In the light of the early morning the guard on watch stood with a clear waking whistle drawing the still armed Dwarves to their feet ready to face the threat only to lower the weapons as they caught sight of you on the seat of the first wagon. With parted lips the Durins stood eyeing the large train of food halting before their kin as you hopped down and greeted the King limping to your side.

Firmly his hands settled on your arms as he stated in Khuzdul,  **“I wondered where you’d gone off to.”** He glanced at the Hobbits offering a basket of rolls out to the group of Children gathering nearby, their curious glances at you ended when you nodded granting them permission to graciously accept a roll each with growing smiles. Turning your eyes back to Thror he asked a bit lower,  **“How did you manage this?”**

** “I paid a visit to my Cousin. Her Uncle is the Thain, or head of the Hobbits.” **  His smile grew only to halt as you added,  **“I had to promise them a third of Dale when we return.”**

Thror,  **“They grant us food, for a third of Dale?”**

You shook your head,  **“They are also offering to house the orphans and grant us safe passage to the Blue Mountains through their borders and trade with us until we can return.”**

His lips parted,  **“How did you-, you talked them into protecting our orphans and future trade?”**

** “I asked about the trade, the offer for the orphans was theirs. It seems there is a great number of homes with parents not ready for an empty nest just yet. They would only expect financial aid for them, no more payment is required until we have Erebor again.” **

Through his misty eyed smile he looked over the number of his kin accepting the food to put together a breakfast as they stole glances at their King leaving a gentle kiss you your knuckles on the hands his had wrapped around.  **“They did not wish for any payment now? Not at all?”**

You shook your head,  **“They understood we’ll be needing time to resettle.”**

He shifted one hand from yours to cup your cheek with an adoring gaze,  **“You have given your word and we will not break it. If a third of Dale is the price a third of Dale will be theirs.”**

…

For a week you traveled with the Durins to the outskirts of the Blue Mountains. There you were met by a Council of Dwarves all eyeing you harshly beside the fallen family leading their subjects to their new home. Half of the peaks now empty at the harsh fell winter that had just swept through taking out the weary elders and weakest of their younger numbers forced to sit through nightly rounds. Within the hour they were welcomed and granted full reign over the abandoned peaks with one condition, sternly their King Grion locked his eyes on you stating,  **“King Thror, you and your kin are welcome, but that Elf Mutt of yours is not.”**

Angrily the Durin’s scowled at the King ready to throttle him only to stop at your stating your Cousin had asked you to stay with her to help with her Son and grow closer while sharing the decision you had accepted to remain near the orphans and assist in teaching them their heritage and more about their lost kin. With a sign Thror reached your side along with his Grandsons who all gave you parting pats on the arms and back as you softly added,  **“Besides, if he keeps demanding obnoxious expectations of your kin and subjects let me know, I’ll see if I can make his time trading with the Hobbits a great deal harsher having his kin follow you in return.”**  This made the group chuckle and bow their heads when you left to head back to the Shire alone while they went to claim the empty space allotted to them.

By the next day after walking through the night you were back again at Bag End where you were welcomed inside and made at home with a supply of clothes in your size and a room of your own. Happily for the first time the orphans were joining the fauntlings in their games until lunch was called for taking them back to their new homes again. Easily they melted into the loving households and accepted their daily lessons with you between your long treks to the city of Men nearby where you joined the crowded Dwarves in bartering your trades.

Not fully Dwarf you seemed to draw another intrigued response leaving you tasked more towards the care of their animals, hemming and translating details from books in various languages while the few Elves from Lindon nearby also began to trickle in curious about their tiny kinsman nearby. Their presence especially drawing more irritation from King Grion who seemed to demand more and more from his kin and the Durins as his health sank for the worse in the looming winter soon upon them. All boiling up to your being leered at by the King wishing to take the creature the Durins cared for the most to be his plaything he would break to follow his bidding instead of Thror’s.

Through the days it was made plain by the messengers he would send your way, all bearing gifts you would refuse and send back until he had cornered you in the markets one day stating, “You will be mine! The Durins have done nothing to protect you thus far,” his hand reached out in an attempt to stroke your cheek, “You will be needing protection.” You swatted his hand away only making him step closer with gritted teeth, “Those Hobbits can do nothing to stop me should I march on them! You would do well to remember that little Mutt!”

With narrowed eyes you watched him smirk haughtily all the way back to his waiting pony to go back to the mountains. Hastily in his absence Thorin in the smithing stall across from yours left his pounded sword to cool on his rush to your side with Dwalin not far behind from his, while the Hobbits in the marketplace gathered closer to you. On your left Farmer Maggot reached you first placing a knotted hand on your shoulder to ask soothingly in Hobbitish, “He insulted you Miss Jaqiearae?”

Your eyes met his and you drew in a breath to state flatly, “He was commenting on my potatoes.” At once Thorin and Dwalin halted at the group fluffing of curls on the Hobbits while their eyes went wide and turned to land on the King now frozen in shock at their joint focused glare before they all turned from him to head back to their stalls in the market place after you added, “He stated he was not overly fond of the vegetable to begin with and no longer wishes to barter for them.”

With a gentle pat on your shoulder Farmer Maggot nodded, “Just as well. Best not let that spoiled apple soil the bunch.” You smiled at him at his nod on his path back to his stall after a glare at the King of his own. Around you the Hobbitish whispers settled on breaking trade with the obviously mad King who had just lost their trust and favor.

Closing the distance Thorin lowly asked in Khuzdul,  **“What did he say?”**

** “He offered me protection.” **

Dwalin’s brows furrowed,  **“From who?!”**

You shrugged and Thorin asked,  **“What did you say to the Hobbits?”**

** “He insulted my potatoes.” **  Their brows rose,  **“In their terms it’s equal to my saying he doubted my anvil.”** Their lips parted,  **“Never insult a Hobbit’s potatoes or let them know if you aren’t fond of them.”**

Dwalin,  **“Why?”**

** “Because the last King to state he wasn’t fond of potatoes stole half their crops and burned most of their fields sending them West for safer lands. It was centuries past, but the memory lingers in their blood.” **  The pair of them smirked and nodded after your gentle turns and nudges,  **“Now, back to work. I won’t let you lose wages on my account.”**

By the following day however word had spread, along with news of the Hobbits refusing aid to the Dwarves under King Grion’s rule after his statement, swearing to not aid a tyrant or those holding his same views. None of the retellings shared just what had been said by you and how you had so effectively turned the Hobbits away from the unstable King, but that was not needed as the Dwarves saw the Long beard clan’s laws and settlements and eagerly tried to gain favor from Thror to be extended under his rule. By winter Grion had taken hold of the truth ahead of him and went off on his own to join his kin in the Southern Kingdoms passing rule entirely over to Thror.

Times and winters were harsh but in your joint efforts with the ruling Durins both races managed smoothly and all flourished towards their bright future when they would return to the distant peak calling them home.

… Present day in Erebor …

Gathered around the large table in the meeting room you joined the Council of Dwarves after your stop in the forges to claim the seat beside Thorin, who smiled brightly at you and claimed your hand when you sat down. Sweetly he nestled against your side as Balin continued his sharing of the daily news and progress reports on Dale until Thorin stated, “Now all that’s left is to pass out the space in the markets once we’ve finished repairs.”

The parting of your lips drew all eyes to you, including Thorin at your side offering you a kind smile, “Did you have a plan of your own for Dale, My Queen?”

In a struggle against your blush his fingers stroked your hand resting in his on his lap, “I’m not certain if King Thror informed you of my deal with the Hobbits for their aid.”

He shook his head, “Whatever it is we will honor it.”

Dwalin chuckled, “We can be certain it’s not gold at least.”

You glanced at Thorin and passed him the folded copy of the contract from your pocket, “My first offer was half of Dale.”

Thorin’s brows rose as he used his free hand to unfold the contract, “Quite a settlement.”

To which you replied, “They talked me down to a third of the market space.”

The Council couldn’t help but chuckle and your eyes locked with Thranduil’s at his asking, “Will they be needing land to settle on?”

You nodded and he replied, “Then I will meet with them when they arrive. There’s plenty of forest for the both of our kin and it would not be far to travel for trade.”

With a smile you replied, “Thank you.”

His nod answered as his hand extended for his glass he raised to his lips while Thorin stated, “At least the contract is bound to your name so there will be no contesting the integrity of it since Thror passed.” He nodded then glanced at Balin, “We will need to consult the Hobbits then when the city is finished so they may claim the stalls they want to honor our Queen’s word.” Raising your hand to his lips for a gentle kiss before lowering it to his lap again as Balin remembered his letter from this morning.

Balin, “Oh, I nearly forgot. Frerin wrote to me. Your Father is requesting permission to travel to Erebor from Moria.”

Thorin’s brows furrowed curiously, “Why would he need my permission?”

His eyes turned to you as Balin smirked at your averted gaze, his elbow nudged yours through his head tilting curiously, “Dearest?”

Inhaling sharply you met his eyes stating, “I, got detained on my travels, after I found Prince Thrain I escorted him to Moria.”

Thorin nodded, “We know that part. Why would he need my permission to leave?”

His eyes lowered to watch your tongue to dart out and wet your lips, “I, might have told him if he didn’t explicitly have your permission to leave I would hunt him down.”

The smile Thorin struggled to withhold had nearly broken through as he playfully rumbled back, “You threatened to kill my Father?”

“We spent the better part of thirty years tracking him down and he’s running about in the woods in a giant ratty tunic rambling on about reclaiming Erebor on his own without so much as a bobby pin. You only had to cross the Stone Giants that once! You’ve no idea the nonsense Prince Thrain ensured by his leaving like that. He’s lucky I didn’t drag him by his beard like I threatened.” The Dwarves were all hiding their faces to contain their chuckles, “Besides, between him and having to double back to Mordor-.”

Their laughter died at the mention of the darkened Kingdom while Thorin’s hand gripped yours protectively, “What would take you there?”

Dwalin, “You said you found him in Dol Guldur.”

Bifur added, “That’s a good week or two South.”

Bofur, “You’d’ve had to cross past Orcarni nearly.”

Across the table Thranduil stated, “Lord Elrond had a suspicion that the creature responsible for discovering the One Ring and destroying Mordor happened to be our lovely Miss Pear.”

Thorin, “You found the ring?”

You nodded, “I passed the Giants and fell through a hidden trap to the Goblin Tunnels, managed to catch myself. Found this, shriveled creature, and the ring.” You wet your lips, “My dream in Moria, after the battle was a bit muddled. It wasn’t till I spotted the Ring in the mud I remembered the second half of it and the instructions I was given. I was on my way back after when I spotted Thrain. Hadn’t slept much and he wouldn’t stop trying to run away and I was late-.” Your eyes turned to the table of silent Dwarves, “What?”

Fili, “You went into Mordor, alone?”

You shook your head and accepted the map from Ori, who had moved closer to record the details fully, “I followed the Misty Mountains and crossed to the edge of Rohan’s borders, there was a set of peaks there, I found a path there through the lands of..” Your brows furrowed for a moment trying to recall, “The Men of Dunharrow, I passed through their city and was across from Minas Morgul but I followed a plume of smoke farther South. There was a village being washed away by a sea of lava, so I tied the ring to a rock and threw it in. They led me back to the Grey Mountains and I spotted Thrain after. Then passed through to Rivendell’s borders where Glorfindel invited me to lunch with him and Lord Elrond, who lent me a horse to help me get to the Shire faster.”

Thorin smirked nearly purring, “No wonder Lord Elrond was so eager to let us stay with him.”

Kili, “Is that why they keep calling you Little Elf?” Your eyes met his, “Because you keep befriending them so easily?”

Thranduil couldn’t help but smirk, “We call her that because that is what she is.” Even your eyes went to his, “I’ve done some research into your Father’s line with Gandalf’s help, he was half Elf.”

You drew in a breath as Thorin asked, “Why would that matter?”

Thranduil smirked, “Because it explains why she was chosen for this role, and how she was able to grant such a gift to your people.”

Dwalin, “Gift?”

Thranduil chuckled lowly, “You haven’t noticed you’re aging has ceased and you’re even appearing younger since leaving the Shire?” Making their lips part, “Lord Celeborn caught a whisper at the end of her dream in Moria, Dwarves and Hobbits would no longer be bound to time when they were joined under the same banner. The moment you left for the Shire your kin and hers were linked in their hope for a greater future. Which makes our joining of lands all the better to discuss now before the Hobbits arrive. We will be neighbors for quite a long time.”

His smile grew watching Thorin’s hand curl around yours again in his lean in to kiss your cheek. Abruptly he turned his head and locked eyes with Thranduil to state, “Then in the case of being neighbors, you’ve got a series Spider problem we don’t want spreading to our lands and those hedges outside of your forest are an eyesore.” Your eyes rolled as a challenging spark grew in Thranduil’s eyes as their ‘neighborly’ demands began.


End file.
